The Rules of Parenting
by Jemima123
Summary: Alison Holmes knew her father wasn't normal but this fact becomes much worse when John Watson moves into 221B and Sherlock's cases seem to become bigger which places him and Alison into more danger than they had ever believed to be possible.
1. Chapter 1

"He's looking for you again," was the sentence which Sherlock walked into 221B Baker Street with. He looked onto the sofa and folded his arms, seeing the young girl sat there as if she owned the flat. Sherlock cocked a brow halfway up his forehead as he removed his jacket from his shoulders, hanging it up onto the coat stand before he straightened out the skull which was resting on the shelf in the living room.

He sat down in his chair, opening his laptop up and switching it on, leaning back and clasping his hands together whilst he looked at the young girl sat on the sofa. She had her legs folded underneath her and was wearing her zip up hoody along with her black leggings and warm bed socks.

Even a fool could see she had simply rolled out of her bed.

"And what did you say to him this time?" Sherlock asked her as she picked up her phone from the side of her, scrolling through it slowly as she chewed on the gum and Sherlock gritted his teeth.

"Could you not chew gum all the time?" he asked her.

"You're never here," she replied. "It shouldn't bother you. I told him I would get you to call him when you came back. He replied with 'we both know he won't' and then I said-"

"Do stop," Sherlock interrupted her. "This is all too much like gossip. I am guessing the last text he sent informed you a car would be outside this evening?"

"If I hadn't have lived on and off with you for thirteen years I'd have been impressed," she said, pushing a hand through her hair before she laid down on the sofa, resting her mobile onto her flat stomach as she looked up to the ceiling.

"That's why you're becoming boring," Sherlock complained, raising his brows.

"No," she replied. "I'm boring because I'm not dead."

"You're not as fun as a dead body," Sherlock replied. "You've been moping around this flat for the majority of your summer holiday."

"And you don't even know why," she rolled her eyes, her hands resting on top of her forehead.

"Of course I know why," Sherlock informed her. "I'm a consulting detective."

"You know?" she snapped and Sherlock shook his head, typing into his blog.

"Damian broke it off with you, didn't he?" Sherlock checked with her and she huffed once, turning onto her side like a little child, causing her phone to fall to the floor as she moved violently. "There is no reason to sulk about it, Alison."

"He said I was too cold," she hissed. "What did he want from me? And why didn't you say anything?"

"How am I supposed to know what he wanted? And I didn't say anything because I knew it would lead to an awkward conversation." Sherlock said. "You rarely brought him here so I didn't have a chance to speak to him so I didn't know him that well anyway."

"You wouldn't have spoken to him because you would have spoken at him," Alison said, sitting up again. "You'd have scared him off."

"It seems like you did a good job of that yourself," Sherlock muttered, hitting the enter button and posting a new entry to his blog before he stood up, pulling his trousers up onto his waist and making sure his shirt was tucked in. "Now you can help me unpack all of these boxes instead of sitting around and acting like a heartbroken teenager."

"That is what I am," Alison pointed out and Sherlock shook his head.

"It is biologically impossible to have your heart broken," he assured her. "Now up you get."

"Now I'm wishing I spent the summer with mum," she moaned as Sherlock grabbed her hand and hauled her up, placing a box into her hands.

"That makes two of us," he assured her and she stuck her tongue out at him. "I don't know why you didn't."

"Because Geoff is an absolute pompous arse," Alison snorted. "And he has two sons who constantly talk about themselves and I couldn't handle two full months in Australia with them."

"Yet you can handle two full months here?" Sherlock checked with her and she shrugged.

"Mum said she couldn't handle more than a minute in your company so she is shocked as to how I was born," Alison informed her father as she emptied plates into cupboards in the kitchen and Sherlock jumped over boxes, a small grin on his face.

"You're here because of a silly mistake which involves a lot of alcohol and a stupid university party," Sherlock assured her.

"You'd miss me if I wasn't here," Alison assured him, walking back into the living room and placing some books onto the bookshelf whilst Sherlock looked out the window.

"I'd miss you a lot more if you were paying the rent," Sherlock said.

"I'm at college," she told him. "And I have a Saturday job."

"Waitressing isn't going to pay the rent, is it, Alison?" Sherlock checked with her. "And I need a case."

"Well where have you been today?" the blonde wondered and Sherlock looked out the window.

"Whipping a corpse," he simply replied.

"I daren't even ask," Alison assured him and picked up another box which was for the bathroom.

"And because of the rent issue we will have a new flat mate by tomorrow," Sherlock said and she walked away.

"What?" she snapped.

"Your IQ is higher than your mother's so don't act like you didn't hear me. I suppose it is lucky that you inherited some of my brains."

"Who is it?"

"You shall see tomorrow."

...

A/N: More to come! Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm fine, mum," Alison spoke down the phone as she manoeuvred around the boxes of 221B at nine o'clock that evening. She placed one foot directly in front of the other, trying to keep balance as she listened to her mother drone on about making sure she was fine living with Sherlock for the full two months she was away.

"Are you sure?" Natalie Mallon checked with her daughter as she stood on the other side of the world where her conditions were much different to her daughter's. Natalie leant on the balcony of the beachside apartment, looking out onto the crashing waves whilst her new husband and his children walked along the beach. "I could fly you out here, you know?"

"I know, mum," Alison said. "But I'm fine here."

"It can be awfully lonely, Alison," Natalie complained and Alison rolled her eyes whilst she looked at the floor of 221B and then out the window through the net curtain, sitting down on the ledge and looking on as traffic passed.

"Are you trying to guilt trip me mum?" Alison pondered and Natalie chuckled.

"Is that shallow?"

"No," Alison replied. "It isn't."

"Then come out here," Natalie pleaded. "You'd have so much fun and Geoff is even thinking of spending more time in Australia."

"He likes it then?"

"He likes it more than I thought he would," Natalie replied, pursing her lips and running a hand through her blonde hair. "You're my only daughter, Allie."

"And I'm dad's only daughter too," Alison pointed out, straightening her legs out in front of her as she felt cramp come into them. "You have Geoff and the twins."

"I know," Natalie said. "And I am happy...I would just be happier if you were with me."

"You'll be home soon, mum," Alison said. "And I'll see you then."

"You will," she sighed back down the phone. "Tell me, is your father looking after you well?"

Alison looked to the side where Sherlock sat at the kitchen table, his microscope on the metal surface as he peered into it and Alison finally saw what was on the Petri dish. A human finger.

"He's...he's here," Alison simply replied and Natalie sighed once.

"I don't know how you can spend time with him," she said and Sherlock looked at his daughter, knowing the conversation had turned to him and he turned back to his observations, not bothering to make an effort.

"He's my dad. I'm half him and half you...I suppose it is only natural that I can spend some time with him," Alison shrugged.

"Hmm," Natalie replied quickly. "Just make sure he takes care of you and if he isn't then you can be on the first flight out here, you know that?"

"You keep telling me," Alison spoke back to her mother. "I'm going to be okay and you'll be back soon anyway."

"Okay honey," Natalie finally said. "I've got to go, sweetheart. I will speak to you later."

"Alright, mum," Alison said.

"I love you, Allie."

"Love you too, mum," Alison said and she hung up her phone, looking down onto the BlackBerry and not moving from the window ledge as she did so.

"How is she?" Sherlock managed to ask out of politeness.

Natalie Mallon had been gone for over three weeks and every time she phoned her daughter the young Holmes went quiet and thoughtful. Sherlock knew that his daughter was only human and that she missed her mother. But Sherlock didn't want her to think about it for too long for it would only sadden her more and Sherlock could not be dealing with a moody teenager.

"She is fine," Alison replied, moving into the kitchen and pulling out a glass, filling it with water. "She sounds like she is having a good time. She asked me to go back down there."

"And what did you say?" Sherlock asked, still looking into his microscope.

"Don't pretend you didn't hear the whole conversation, dad," Alison told her father. "I'm not going."

"I don't know why you don't," Sherlock replied. "I can't believe your mother questioned if I was looking after you."

"You can't even look after yourself!" Alison said, drinking her drink quickly. "I have to be the one to make sure you eat."

"I think I'm due for doing that soon," Sherlock said and he smirked as did Alison and they looked at each other for a brief second. It was a rare moment when they both smiled at each other and shared a moment of humour.

"Do you want me to make you something?" Alison asked and Sherlock shook his head.

"Not after I've looked at a human finger," he said. "I had best hide them for when John comes tomorrow."

"Is he the new flatmate?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied. "I don't think it would look good...having them around the flat...might put him off..."

"It would," she nodded. "Although you never clear them up when I am here."

"I did when you first came...when you were four...I thought I had best make a good impression or your mother may not let me see you again," Sherlock muttered and Alison poured herself another drink.

"Luckily for you she did," Alison smiled into her glass.

"Lucky is such an odd word," Sherlock chuckled to himself as Alison took the glass of her water and began to leave the kitchen.

"I'm going to bed," she declared. "I'll see you in the morning."

"You will."

...

"Dr John Watson," the small blonde man declared himself as he walked up the stairs behind Sherlock and he spoke down the steps to Alison who was following them up after her and her father had paid Mrs Hudson the rent.

"Alison Holmes," the young girl replied and John raised a brow as he entered the living room, his hands moving behind his back as he did so.

"She's my daughter," Sherlock said simply. "Is there going to be a problem?"

"No," John said quickly. "I just didn't think you'd have a child...but it's fine...it's cool...good...I'm down with the kids."

"Don't say that again," Alison said, patting John on the shoulder before she moved around the flat, tidying things which were out of place.

"Okay," John said. "But this is nice...it could do with a few changes but it is good...so when do we move in."

"We already moved in."

They spoke at the same time and John chuckled once as Sherlock began to move some stuff out the way.

"Of course I can move some of my belongings if needs must," Sherlock declared and Alison climbed over the coffee table and sat down on the sofa.

"So you were an army doctor?" she asked John and Sherlock chuckled, seeing she was observing like he did.

"Yes," he said. "I'm taking it Sherlock has told you all about me."

"No," Alison shook her head. "He hasn't said anything."

"So...Jesus Christ..." John said. "There are two of you."

Alison watched as John paled and she laughed out loud, standing up again and shaking her head.

"I'm not as much of an arse as he is with his little gift," she said and Sherlock pursed his lips.

"It's not a gift...it's a skill," he replied.

"But he won't deny the fact he's an arse," Alison said to John.

"I'm not an arse either," Sherlock replied as John sat down in the chair, his leg not being able to hold him up for a longer period of time as the elder Holmes ruffled his black hair and heard sirens in the distance, causing him to run for the window and then turn around, jumping up and down like a little kid.

"A case?" Alison wondered and Sherlock nodded.

"I'm hoping so," he said. "There must have been a third murder."

"Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson's shrill voice called up the steps. "You have a visitor."

"There's been another one," a man with grey hair informed Sherlock. "Brigg Street."

"Who is on forensics?"

"Anderson."

"Brilliant!" Alison declared, knowing her father's hatred for the man.

"He won't work with me," Sherlock said.

"Will you come?" Lestrade asked.

"I'll follow in a cab," Sherlock said and Lestrade nodded once, moving off and following Mrs Hudson back down the steps as Sherlock jumped up and down again.

"We have a serial killer!" he declared and Alison rolled her eyes.

"I should have gone with mum," she complained as Sherlock looked at John and at his daughter.

"Make yourself at home, John...Alison will make you some tea..."

"I'm not the housekeeper!" Alison hissed at her father.

"Neither is Mrs Hudson as she keeps informing me on a daily basis," Sherlock spoke back. "And I can't get her to do things but I can you. I shall be back later on...don't wait up!"

"Is he real?" John asked Alison who nodded.

"Regrettably."


	3. Chapter 3

Allison POV

"Are you serious?" I called down the stairs when I saw my dad and John getting ready to go out five minutes after Lestrade had come to tell dad of his case. "So you are going to take John who you have known for under twenty four hours instead of your own daughter?"

He seemed to go silent for a moment, looking at John and then back at me, his shoulders moving up and down.

"It would seem so," he said back to me and I shook my head, placing my hand onto my hip. Should I honestly be concerned?

"Fine," I snapped back. "I'll just go and unpack."

"Okay," my dad replied. "Just to let you know that Mycroft shall be coming by soon."

"You mean his PA?" I asked and dad shrugged as John raised a brow of concern which went unnoticed.

"Yes," Sherlock replied. "He will want to know about John."

"Me?" John asked in a small type of squeak, clearly wondering if he had done anything wrong and my father nodded.

"Keep the talk to a minimum when he asks you questions, Alison," he said and I nodded once, waving my hand and then moving back into the room, looking at the remainder of the cardboard boxes before I flounced back onto dad's sofa.

I closed my eyes and began to think about anything with little importance. I didn't have my father's IQ and so my brain wasn't as active as his always was, much to my joy.

I often wondered as to why he was how he was. I wanted to know how to become a sociopath like him. My thoughts did not permit me to go far as I heard footsteps come up the flat and I sat up, seeing the blonde woman in the door as she looked at me.

"Where are we going this time?" I asked her and she smirked once, pulling out her phone and saying nothing as I slipped into my flat shoes and grabbed my blazer jacket, following her out.

"He says this shouldn't take too long," my uncle's PA assured me as she opened the backseat door and I shrugged.

"I don't have anywhere to be tonight so it doesn't matter," I muttered to myself, knowing she had a far more interesting social life than I had ever had and I betted she didn't want to know of mine.

There was no conversation as the car sped off down Baker Street and eventually we reached a place I had yet to see.

The cafe where the car stopped was small, round metal tables with chairs sat outside as a veranda covered them from the elements. The glass was dirty and in need of a clean and the billboard advertised a 'Good quality English breakfast' which I could only assume was trade description.

"I had a hot chocolate bought for you," was the first sentence he spoke to me as I entered the cafe, sitting on the leather seat opposite him in the booth as he rubbed the table with a serviette, avoiding knocking the two cups which sat on the wood surface.

"Thank you," I said and he nodded once.

"I take it you know why you're here. I have yet to hear you question me which is normally the first thing you mouth off about. So Sherlock knew I was coming?"

"He warned me before I went out," I shrugged. "He also thinks you're here to ask me what I know about John."

"Yes," Mycroft said. "Sherlock is your father; surely he said why this man intrigues him so."

"I haven't heard a peep," I assured Mycroft. "All I know is that he is an ex army doctor with a limp and he seems pleasant enough."

"Sherlock doesn't befriend people, Alison," Mycroft muttered. "We both know that."

"Well if you want to know why he asked John to move in then you had best ask him yourself," I simply replied, drinking some of the chocolate which was indeed hot and burnt the tip of my tongue.

"I doubt it will come to that," Mycroft said. "I just found it odd he was asking someone to move in and he took him to the crime scene too, correct?"

"Yeah," I said.

"So how have you been?" Mycroft asked me and I raised a brow, wrapping my hands around the cup.

"The last time you asked me that was when you needed a favour," I said. "You don't wonder how anyone else is."

"Well I just thought I would ask," Mycroft shrugged. "You are my brother's daughter and I find it right I take an interest."

"What's going on?" I bluntly asked him. "What do you know or need?"

"I know what happened between you and your boyfriend of nine months," he finally decided to tell me the truth. "I have to say it is dastardly behaviour from him."

"What? By telling me I was cold? Dastardly indeed," I chuckled once, trying to not let it bother me as Mycroft shook his head and his eyes went wide.

"You don't know," he whispered and I looked up again, drinking some of my drink and then looking down onto the wooden surface.

"What do I not know?" I wondered back.

"I have evidence too...it isn't that I was trailing your boyfriend or anything..." Mycroft said to me.

"So what were you doing?"

"Your father had noticed that you weren't spending as much time with him and he asked me to investigate," Mycroft said, going into his pocket and producing a bunch of photos on the table and I looked at them, my eyes drawn as a lump formed in my throat.

"How long have you had these?" I wondered in a whisper.

"Seven weeks," Mycroft said and I gasped once, closing my eyes and taking in a deep breath. "He was seeing her whilst you were together."

"I can see that," I said and looked at the picture of Damian and a brunette girl kissing in a park. "If he wanted to dump me because he found someone else than he should have...it wouldn't have hurt...I gave him everything."

"Yes," Mycroft drawled, checking his watch. "Sherlock told me not to tell you any of this."

"Why?"

"He didn't want it to upset you," Mycroft said. "In his own way he thought it would be easier for him to hide the truth. He had me contact the boy and tell him to break his relationship off with you, hence his weak excuse as to why he did."

"So he had planned on being with me and seeing her?" I asked.

"It would seem so," Mycroft said and he took the photos and stood up before looking down at me, texting as he did so. "Don't be too upset with Sherlock. He only did what he thought would be best."

...

I lay on the sofa when I got back for another few hours, my body turned on my side as I leant my head against the arm and looked at the leather material opposite me. Even when I heard the door close I didn't make a move as I knew dad to be returning home. He slammed something onto the floor before he stood still, his hands on his hips.

"I need the sofa," he demanded.

"I'm busy," I snapped and he grumbled under his breath before I felt him lay on it beside me, taking up most of the room.

"This is a three patch problem and I need this sofa to help me think," he hissed as I sniffed once and he went quiet.

"Are you crying?" he finally asked me and I wiped my nose, still laid on my side as I felt his eyes stare at the back of my blonde head.

"You're using the present tense," was all I could say and I heard him draw in a deep intake of breath. "And you probably know why I am crying."

"Mycroft told you?"

"You didn't," I replied.

"I didn't want to see him...well upset you...I couldn't deal with it..." he moaned. "This way was safer for everyone."

"It's in the past now."

"So why are you crying?"

"Dad?"

"What?"

"Can you not interrogate me?" I asked him and turned over, my body facing his as he lay on his side. I tucked my head into the crook just below his neck and breathed in the scent of cool air on him along with chemical as he stiffened his posture and I brought my hands up, resting them between my chest and his.

"I hope you know this is extremely uncomfortable for me," he complained and I closed my eyes, still snivelling as I did so.

"Can you just..." I didn't even know what to say to him. I didn't know what I was looking for from him.

"Fine," he said to my nonexistent question and I finally relaxed a little as he closed his eyes and began to think the case through.

...

A/N: Thank you so much to all story alerts I received! And thank you to my two first reviewers Aye-Aye57 and PresidentTheAwesome! Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

Thirteen years ago

"Natalie," Sherlock Holmes whispered as he opened the door to the small little bedsit which he was living in. He nodded once at the blonde as she looked him in the eye, smiling lightly before he allowed her to enter the room and she looked around, clearly unimpressed at the lack of lighting and the cardboard boxes which were strewn around the room. Sherlock coughed once, looking down, his long black hair coming into his line of sight as he did so. "I just moved in."

"I can tell," the blonde replied. He looked at her and deducted everything about her. Her hair was perfectly placed onto the top of her head and she wore minimal make up but she looked tired, almost as if work was draining her or something else was. Her suit was expensive, probably paid for by her parents to help impress her new employer at Muriel and Waugh.

"You managed to get into a solicitor firm then?" he checked with her and her eyes went wide for a moment.

"I would ask how you knew but I'm not here to see you show off," she replied sternly.

"Then I wonder why you're here," Sherlock said and she sighed lightly.

"Sorry for being rude," she managed to wriggle the words out. "I'm a bit on edge. But yes, I did manage to get into a solicitor firm."

"I can tell by the pen with the writing which is sticking out your pocket," he simply replied, not giving away the other signs which he noted about her job. "I have not seen you in a while."

"It will be exactly four years and eight months and six days," she nodded, "on this day."

"That is very specific," Sherlock muttered and she shrugged.

"You did drop out after a month at Oxford though," Sherlock told her and she moved around his small bedsit.

"Oxford was not for me," she said simply in a lie. "It was far too challenging."

"I suppose it is not for everyone," Sherlock said. "So what brings you here?"

"You mean you haven't deduced it yet?" she asked him and he shook his head.

"I had hoped I didn't have to spell it out," she moaned, burying her head into her hands as she sunk down and sat on the cardboard boxes, shaking as she did so. "You do remember that night?"

"Of course," Sherlock responded quickly.

"And you do know it was a mistake, correct?" Natalie muttered, her hand still covering her mouth and Sherlock nodded again, his hands moving behind his back as he rocked back and forth on his heels.

"We both agreed to that."

"Well that's the reason I left Oxford," she replied. "We made a stupid mistake and...now..."

"Oh Lord," Sherlock suddenly burst, a strangled noise escaping his lips as he settled himself down on the coffee table, his knees feeling slightly weak at what his mind had just told him. "You were pregnant...weren't you?"

"Yes," Natalie whispered after a moment. "I left because I couldn't face carrying a child...I...I gave birth in secret, Sherlock. My parents looked after Alison whilst I went back to university and finished off my degree, hence why it has taken me four years."

"Alison?" Sherlock arched a brow and Natalie nodded, a small smile playing on her lips at the mother's intuition which had kicked in.

"Yes," she replied. "She's the loveliest little girl you have seen, Sherlock."

"She will be four, correct?"

"She was four on July the fifteenth," Natalie told him.

"And it has taken you four years to tell me this?" Sherlock replied, finally looking into her eyes. "Do correct me if I am wrong but I did believe that the mother informed the father when they had a child and they did not spring it on them like this?"

"I didn't know how to tell you, Sherlock," Natalie replied. "You were so focused on your education and even though you were an arse I didn't want to mess that up for you...and I didn't think...I didn't think you would be interested."

"So you assumed that I wouldn't want to see my own daughter?" Sherlock checked and Natalie shrugged.

"I suppose so," she said. "But did I assume correctly?"

Sherlock went quiet, not knowing what to say to her in return as he clasped his hands together, resting a finger to his lips as Natalie began to speak;

"I know it was wrong to not tell you and I thought about keeping it a secret so we could both live our lives...but would that be fair on Alison? Doesn't she have a right to know who her dad is?"

Sherlock still remained quiet, thinking about what he was supposed to do next.

"I suppose I should meet her."

"She is downstairs," Natalie whispered. "She's with my dad in the car. I brought her with me in case you wanted to see her today."

"I imagine you had best bring her up here then," was Sherlock's simple response and Natalie stood up, wiping away a tear before she straightened her suit out and left the man sat on his own, wondering whatever he would do next.

Now

Sherlock sighed once again and grumbled in his head as his daughter continued to lie next to him, nestling into him as much as she could manage. He normally had boundaries for this type of contact. She was slowly falling to sleep as her breathing became shallower and lighter. Sherlock looked down his nose onto the top of her blonde curls as he became uncomfortable lying like he was, his arm stuffed under his own body and his other arm resting on his side so he was straight like an arrow. When he finally was unable to not feel his own arm underneath his weight he shifted slightly, pushing it under his daughter's body and around her shoulders as she grunted in her sleep at the jostle. He turned his head to the side, looking at the pink suitcase sat on the wooden floor as the nicotine patches began to kick into his system and he breathed deeply.

...

Mycroft Holmes stood outside 221B Baker Street and hit the send button on his phone, watching the small envelope disappear from the screen and onto Sherlock's phone as he held his umbrella in his hands, stood outside the veranda of the sandwich shop whilst he waited. It took him fifteen minutes until Sherlock returned out the door in the chilling soon to be autumn air wearing just his jacket which looked slightly crumpled and his shirt buttons unbuttoned two spaces.

"Sherlock," Mycroft greeted his brother. "I take it Alison is upset due to the small wet patch on your collar. Although I have to say I am surprised you allowed her close enough to you."

"She was on my sofa," Sherlock grumbled. "Now what is this about?"

"Shall we take a seat?" Mycroft extended an arm to the table with two chairs outside the shop and the two men sat down. Sherlock folded his legs, looking onto the road of Baker Street whilst Mycroft checked his phone which informed him John Watson was back at his own apartment.

"Why did you take it upon yourself to tell her what Damian did?" Sherlock quickly asked and Mycroft sighed simply.

"I thought it to be in her best interests to know," Mycroft said. "What do you think would have run through her mind when she returned to college and saw the two of them together?"

"She would have known that he was with that girl but she did not need to know he had being unfaithful," Sherlock said and Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Unfaithful," he drawled. "We aren't living in the ninety sixties."

"If you'd like to tell your fashion sense that then that would be much obliged," Sherlock drawled and Mycroft rolled his eyes once again.

"It was the best for her to know, Sherlock," Mycroft replied. "I would have thought you would have realised that and told her that so I didn't think of not saying anything about the subject in debate."

"I will decide what to tell her and what not to," Sherlock replied with venom in his voice but only slightly. "I believe it is my paternal instinct."

"You wouldn't know your paternal inflict even if it was a dead corpse offering you the most thrilling case of your life," Mycroft replied. "Someone was bound to have seen her ex boyfriend with that girl and then tell your daughter he was cheating on her. You didn't need to keep it from her. She is a Holmes and can handle it."

"You are forgetting something," Sherlock muttered.

"And what is that?"

"She's half of her mother. She doesn't have any sociopathic tendencies from me."

...

"Where did you go?" Alison asked her father when she saw him enter through the doorway again and he ran a hand through his black hair. "And why is there a pink suitcase here?"

"The case," he muttered and checked his phone. He had text John multiple times but he had yet to reply to him. Sherlock moved over to his armchair, sitting in it and wrapping his arms around his knees, rocking backwards and forwards whilst Alison stood up and moved into the kitchen, switching the kettle on.

"Do you want a drink?" she asked her father.

"I had one four hours ago. I'll be fine for another several."

"And when was the last time you ate?"

"I'm going out anyway," he said and stood up quickly as Alison moved into the hallway where she saw her father moving down the stairs and John coming up them.

"I knew you'd come," Sherlock said. "I need you to send a text to this number."

"What?" John asked as the consulting detective pushed a piece of paper into John's hand.

"What is it I am texting?" John asked as Sherlock began to reel of what he needed and Alison just watched on.

"Why would the killer have her phone?" Alison piped up.

"What a stupid question," Sherlock replied and Alison snorted.

"Is this coming from the man who asked me why the earth turns?" Alison asked and Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her whilst she winked once at him and stood up.

"So in relation my question seems normal," she decided as her phone began to ring and she looked at it, picking it up.

"It's mum again," Alison said. "I'm going to go into my room and take this...she probably wants to know if I'm alive."

Alison went into her room, speaking to her mother and assuring her Sherlock wasn't shooting the walls again as she heard the door slam. She walked back into the room where her father had been but he had gone once again.

...

"What is going on?" Alison asked as Mrs Hudson came up the steps with a tow of officers behind her and Alison looked at Mrs Hudson as Lestrade sighed once.

"It's a drug bust," he told her and her eyes went wide.

"Are you kidding me?" she hissed. "A drug bust...why the hell are you doing this?"

"She's becoming violent," Anderson hissed, standing behind Lestrade. "Maybe you should cuff her."

"And maybe you should piss off out of my house?" Alison suggested, moving forward slightly only for Lestrade to grab onto her shoulders and push her backwards, dragging her back into the corner of the apartment, his mouth dropping to her ear.

"Are we going to find anything to incriminate him?" he whispered, looking into her eyes and Alison shrugged.

"I doubt there will be anything," she whispered.

"Well if there is then get rid of it before they find it," Lestrade told her and she shook her head.

"He wouldn't have anything," she said determinedly. "Now why are you here?"

"Your father has gone off on his own," Lestrade said loudly again so the rest of the drug squad could hear him. "We need to make sure he isn't hiding evidence."

"He brought that pink case home," Alison replied quickly. "That's all I know."

"Okay," Lestrade said. "Get to work men and women! Start in the kitchen."

"You don't need to do this," Alison said.

"I need to let Sherlock know who is in charge and at the moment he isn't acting responsibly."

"A drug bust!" Mrs Hudson squeaked and shook her head, moving back down to her own apartment and leaving Alison as Lestrade began to sit down in her father's chair and text.

"He'll let you down one day," a sudden female voice told Alison as the young girl stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall and they continued to violate her privacy. "It's only a matter of time."

"Donovan, I presume," Alison said flatly. "My father doesn't speak too highly of you."

"I feel the same," she assured the girl. "But when has he ever been there for you?"

"He's my dad," Alison said. "I know what he is. I know him better than you."

"Can you honestly say that?" Donovan raised a brow. "Who knows what goes around in Sherlock Holmes mind?"

"Not you," Alison replied. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need air."

Alison moved past the woman, her shoulder bumping into hers as she took off down the stairs and she opened the door of the Baker Street building and stepped onto the pathway, looking around and wondering what Donovan had just said to her. The question she had spoke kept going around her head. It wouldn't leave her. She didn't know who her father truly was. And she couldn't pretend she did.

...

A/N: I have to say a large thank you to everyone who has once again added this to story alert! But thank you so much to PresidentTheAwesome, GenneGenevieve, Aye-Aye57 and emicatt for reviewing the last chapter! I will update frequently honest! And please let me know what you think! It means a lot! So review!


	5. Chapter 5

Alison POV

"Well it would seem we are in the middle of a drug bust whilst you two stand there and snigger about something which I doubt is funny!" I yelled at my father and John as I stood halfway down the stairs and looked at him as he paled slightly, looking straight up at me and running up the stairs, pushing me to the side gently as he stepped up another step and then looked back into my eyes.

"Are you okay?" he suddenly asked and I shrugged. I didn't know if I was okay about anything which was going on. Dad nodded once, moving up the stairs and into the living room as I saw John follow him without his walking stick. I raised a brow but shook my head, following them. Clearly his limp was non-existent and in his head.

"What is this?" Dad snapped as he saw Lestrade sat in his armchair.

"It's a drug bust," Lestrade said, his hands outstretched pronouncing what was happening whilst I remained in the background.

"This is absurd!" Dad shouted once again. "What do you think you'll find?"

"A drug bust?" John spoke up. "This guy?"

"John," I warned him.

"Well I mean, come on," John chuckled and dad looked him in the eye dangerously.

"Shut up," he hissed and Lestrade shook his head, standing up and looking dad with a cocked head.

"I am clean!" Dad declared, rolling his sleeve up and showing Lestrade the nicotine patches. "I don't even smoke."

"Neither do I," he replied, showing off his own nicotine patches and I remained confused for a second or two later. "Now what is going on with the case?"

"I'm not your sniffer dog," dad rolled his eyes.

"No, Anderson is that," Lestrade said and the man moved out from behind the door, waving sarcastically.

"What is he doing here? He isn't on the drug squad!"

"They were all eager to volunteer," Lestrade shrugged.

"Are these human eyes?" Donovan suddenly asked and I looked at John as dad looked horrified and I gasped for breath for a second.

"Were they in the fridge?" I yelled out. "The place where I store milk and orange juice and all the normal things which should be in the fridge?"

"They were for an experiment," dad declared.

"We have the case and according to someone the case would be with the murderer," Anderson declared, moving his white gloves further onto his hand. "And we found the case in the possession of our very own psychopath."

"He's hardly a psychopath, dipstick," I said to Anderson. "Maybe you should learn the difference between a psychopath and a sociopath."

Dad looked at me for a second, his lips twitching up and then back down before he looked at Lestrade and then raised his hands into the air.

"Shut up!" he yelled. "Everybody don't think and don't move and Anderson, get out my flat!"

"What?" Anderson replied. "Why do I need to get out the flat?"

"Because you make the place look unsightly," I whispered and John snorted next to me as Lestrade seemed to understand what was going on.

"Do as he says and Anderson, go outside."

"Oh this is absurd-" the squeaky voiced man snapped.

"Outside!" Lestrade yelled and he trounced out the flat whilst my dad smiled widely.

"Yes," he chuckled. "She is dead and she is cleverer than all of you!"

"What is he on about?" John asked as he opened his laptop up and began typing ferociously and we all crowded in behind him to see what he was doing.

"She left us her phone which would surely have all her life on it," Sherlock said. "She left it so we could track it and find the killer...she gave us her email address in the suitcase and the password is quite simple."

"Rachel," John whispered and dad nodded, emphasising his hit on the enter key as the phone began to track.

"Wonderful," John declared and I could see why dad liked having him around. It was someone to show off in front of.

"Sherlock, your cab is here," Mrs Hudson suddenly said and he looked at her at the same time his phone went off. He looked at the message and then at all the commotion taking place in the flat as he stared at me for a second and I looked at him as he moved to the door. I followed him quickly, grabbing onto his arm as he moved down the staircase.

"What is going on?" I asked.

"Nothing," he denied. "I need to go somewhere."

"Where?" I whispered. "This is to do with the case, isn't it?"

"Stay here," he demanded from me and I shook my head.

"You're going to get into trouble," I warned him.

"I may, but you're not," he said harshly. "Now go and talk to Mrs Hudson for a while."

"I'm seventeen," I informed him. "I can do what I want."

"Not whilst you live with me," he deduced. He continued to run off out the flat and I followed him, stepping onto the road as he climbed into the cab, quickly shutting the door and it locked before I had a chance to catch up with him. I shook my head, rushing back into 221 B where I saw John coming down the stairs.

"Where did he go?"

"He went in the cab...I couldn't stop him..."

"Well the killer has him now."

Third Person POV

"You must get bored," the cab driver announced as he and Sherlock sat opposite each other, a test of wills clearly about to be induced as the two bottle remained on the table, looking at Sherlock as they sat in the science classroom. One of them would kill him and the other would allow him to live.

"I have my moments," Sherlock replied. "But this must be fun for you."

"It helps provide money for my kids," he shrugged. "My sponsor is very generous."

"And who is your sponsor?"

"His name is irrelevant, Mr Holmes," the man chuckled. "But he has been watching you...he knows your smart."

"How nice," Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"He also wants you to stop getting in his way like you have been doing with this case."

"I simply cannot do that," Sherlock said. "Tell me who he is and I shall pass on my regards though."

"You're very persistent."

"It's only right to be persistent," Sherlock said quickly.

"So are you going to take a pill? Live for the thrill?"

"I don't need to. I know which one is which."

"I don't think you do," the cabbie denied. "I think you're too scared...I mean...you do have a daughter to live for."

"She is nothing to do with this."

"She is everything to do with this. My sponsor has seen her, Alison, isn't it?"

Sherlock remained quiet, his cheeks going slightly pale as the man continued with his speech.

"Yes, Alison Holmes Wilson...her mother is in Australia and so you have ended up with her for the summer...you may want to keep an eye on her for longer than that time," the man advised Sherlock.

"Why?"

"Because Moriarty has taken quite a shine to her," the cabbie grinned. "He thinks she could be involved in his plans if you don't leave him be."

"I don't think so," Sherlock replied.

"Time shall tell."

...

"You were going to take the pill, weren't you?" Alison hissed at her father as he saw her approaching the back of the ambulance he was sat on. "You were going to risk your life! And John filled me in. How could you be so dense?"

"I'm in shock!" Sherlock snapped. "I have a blanket."

"And if you had taken it...what about me?" Alison asked her father. "Did I not come into the equation."

"I was playing him," Sherlock denied. "I wouldn't have killed myself."

"I don't know," Alison replied lightly. "You worry me sometimes."

"No need to worry," Sherlock replied, shrugging out the blanket. "I'm not going anywhere for a long time."

...

A/N: A second but shorter chapter but there is still more to come! Do review!


	6. Chapter 6

"He is too fit for his own good," Alison heard once she opened the door to 221 B Baker Street and she saw her friend stood there, looking down the road, her neck peering back as Alison stepped onto the step, looking down the street and wondering what she was looking at before she stepped back and slapped her friend on the arm.

"He is also my dad," Alison hissed. "Jesus Christ, Penny."

"The truth cannot be avoided, Allie," Penny informed her, still watching Sherlock's retreating figure. "He's so dark and brooding. Is he always like that?"

"Yes," Alison snapped back quickly. "Now get your arse in here whilst I fetch my coat."

Alison led Penny up the steps and into the new flat where the girl twirled around, looking at the decor of the place and then resting her back against the wall next to the door whilst Alison shrugged into her blazer jacket.

"He certainly has odd taste...but that's okay...I like that in a man," she nodded once and Alison rolled her eyes.

"You are aware he is double your age and add one year to that?"

"I don't mind older men," Penny promised her and Alison shook her head.

"You're diabolical. I didn't even hear him go out but I am glad he did," Alison spoke back. "You do know how oblivious he is to people ogling him?"

"I wouldn't make it oblivious if he didn't want it to be," Penny said. "If he wasn't your dad then you'd understand this."

"But he is so I don't," Alison hissed. "Now come on, I have my dad's debit card and his permission to buy anything I need for the return to college."

"He's considerate too," Penny sighed and Alison shook her head.

"Only if you moan at him for hours upon end."

...

"I didn't know you had a part time job," John commented as Alison stood in the living room at five o'clock at night, taking the elastic band from around her wrist and placing her blonde hair from her face and into a ponytail.

"I work at the pizza restaurant on Merton Street," she told John.

"Yet she still insists on burning a hole in my wallet even though she has her own money," Sherlock complained and Alison rolled her eyes, straightening out the black tube skirt she was wearing as she looked at her father.

"You gave me your card," she pointed out.

"It kept you from moaning," he said, rubbing his temple as he did so. "I cannot be dealing with it when I haven't had a case in over forty eight hours."

"That's why I decided to crack you at that moment," Alison shrugged.

"Are you not going to be late?" Sherlock asked her and she looked at the clock again and grabbed the black short cardigan she wore with the simple black uniform and she grabbed her name badge from the mantelpiece.

"You'll need that in case you forget your name," Sherlock muttered and Alison looked at John.

"He also likes to bring out his dry sense of wit when he's bored," she told the doctor.

"I shall bear that in mind," John replied and Sherlock closed his eyes.

"How are you getting to work?" he asked his daughter.

"I'll walk," she shrugged.

"And how are you getting home?"

"I will walk again," she replied. "You've never wondered how I got home before."

"I'll walk round and meet you tonight," Sherlock deduced. "It will be dark."

"You've never-"

"-I heard you the first time," he snapped back at her. "I'll be there at eleven. Try not to mess up table two's order like last time."

"I didn't tell you that," Alison replied, grabbing her bag and placing it onto her shoulder.

"Do you think you really needed to?"

...

"She seemed shocked you'd meet her from work," John informed Sherlock. "Is it not something you would do often?"

"It isn't something I would ever do," Sherlock said, clicking onto his laptop whilst John sat opposite him at the desk, his hand holding onto a pen which was circling job vacancies he could apply for.

"Why not?"

"Alison is old enough to walk home by herself," Sherlock grunted.

"But she isn't tonight?"

"I was unaware you were an interrogator in the army, I thought you were just a doctor?" Sherlock snarled and John chuckled, looking down onto his paper as he did so.

"Do you want to tell me why you're walking her home or not?"

"Can I not just be a doting father?" Sherlock wondered and John shook his head.

"I speak to Alison and she doesn't seem to think so," John replied and Sherlock sighed, raising his brows whilst he looked onto his screen.

"The taxi driver...he said something about this man named Moriarty...something about how he has taken a shine to Alison."

"And what do you think that means?"

"I don't know," Sherlock replied in a drawl. "All I know is that it didn't sound good."

"And so you've gone overprotective," John nodded once. "I'd do the same for my daughter."

"I haven't gone overprotective," Sherlock said in a hiss. "Nothing will happen anyway."

...

"And on the seven to eleven shift tomorrow night is Alison, Michael, Peter, Jenny and Patrick. I will have the rotors for the next few works sorted out in a few days but until then remember to keep serving the pizza with a smile...because when we smile..."

"...the customer smiles along," the entire workforce spoke up as the manager clapped once, dismissing them from work after a long night in the pizza restaurant called Bellisimo. Alison quickly walked into the staff room, grabbing her cardigan and bag and then picking up a pizza box which contained her free employee pizza. Saying goodnight to all the other staff she walked out onto the pavement and he was sure enough there.

"You actually turned up," Alison said as they began to walk down the pavement and Sherlock buttoned up his jacket in the fresh air, his hands by his sides as he looked down the street.

"I did say I would come and meet you," he replied to her and she shrugged.

"You said you'd come with mum to parent's evening two months ago and you didn't."

"This is an entirely different situation," Sherlock told his daughter as she rolled her eyes, flipping open the pizza box and grabbing a slice.

"Is that cold?" Sherlock wondered.

"Yep," she replied. "It has been sat in the back for nearly two hours."

"I shall partake in a slice then," Sherlock said and took a cold slice of pizza. "John attempted to make Spaghetti Bolognese earlier."

"And is that a bad thing?"

"Let us just say it is in the fridge and ready for further examination under my microscope," Sherlock said with a small twitch on his lips whilst Alison chuckled lightly.

"So when was the last time you ate?"

"Four seconds ago when I ate a piece of pizza," Sherlock said sarcastically.

"Seriously, dad...you need to start eating like a normal person."

"I'm not normal," Sherlock replied quickly.

"Your body is," Alison replied and yawned and Sherlock looked at her for a brief moment before his eyes darted back to the road.

"Are you not cold?" he wondered simply and she shrugged.

"I've just come out from the hot to the cold so I am getting cool."

"That should teach you to bring your coat with you then, shouldn't it? I know the days are still warm but are you so delirious as to not know the nights are becoming cold?"

"I'm sorry," Alison blinked several times, "did you just go parental on me over a trivial thing?"

"No," Sherlock spoke. "I was just telling you not to be so daft in the future and bring a coat because now I feel compelled to give you my jacket."

"I don't need it."

"And I don't need you coming down with a cold and moping around the flat pitying yourself and making that awful soup," Sherlock replied, taking off his jacket and handing it to her as she handed him the pizza box and shoved her arms into the sleeves of the black suit piece.

"It is chicken soup and it is nice. And I do not mope."

"What do you call lying around on my sofa? May I emphasise the word 'my' also. And looking like death warmed up whilst you watch hopeless daytime TV which is boring when no one has cheated on anyone and they all end up happy together."

"That's what normal people do when they're ill!" Alison responded, rolling the jacket sleeves up. "They don't examine the tissue they just coughed into and try and find a cure for the common cold."

"I'll find it one day."

...

Alison POV

I wasn't work shy at all but the next morning I woke up and my body was killing me. My legs ached and my back ached from carrying so many trays that I had lost count. I slowly sat up, looking around the room which I classed as my own opposite from my dad's and sighed once, laying back down. There were still multiple things which needed to be unpacked and I needed to ask John if he would fix a desk for me. Dad had managed to nail all the pieces of wood into the wrong bits, claiming it wasn't challenging enough for him. I stood up and found the curtains, pressing my nose to the window to see the weather before I trod over the boxes, successfully managing to hit my foot on the majority of them before I opened the door to my room, running a hand through my hair which smelt like garlic bread.

"Ah!" a heard a sudden voice shout out and I blinked multiple times, walking down the hallway and into the kitchen before I jumped back.

"What the hell is going on?" I yelled as I saw my dad in his chair being straddled by an Arab man who had a sword on him and was pointing it straight at my father's throat. Suddenly, dad made a move, pushing the man who had turned to look at me from him and jumping from his chair, ducking a sudden punch and then hitting him in the stomach with his elbow as the man doubled over.

"Excellent timing, Alison," he congratulated me. "I have to say you made quite the distraction."

Dad managed to point at the doorway as the Arab looked and dad flung his fist up, hitting him square in the jaw as he fell to the floor and dad pulled his shirt down, nodding in the mirror and making sure his face was fine.

"What...why..."

"If you'd like to form a coherent sentence then I would be happily obliged to answer your question," he informed me, grabbing the passed out Arab man by his collar.

"I don't even know what to say," I muttered.

"Well you grab onto his feet and we can take him out the back and deposit him by the bins."

"I'm not helping you get rid of a dead body!" I hissed at him and he rolled his eyes.

"Don't be melodramatic," he said.

"Well it isn't everyday you come out your room and find your father being straddled by some random man!"

"Straddled by some random man?" he asked, sounding appalled as he did so. "I don't think it was like that..."

"It was exactly like that!" I snapped my fingers. "You get rid of him and then tell me why he was here in the first place."

"I refused to take his case," my dad said, dragging him from under his shoulders from the room as I folded my arms. "It was something about a lost diamond and I didn't feel like helping them. It seems they didn't like my response."

"This is ridiculous," I shook my head. "Is this going to happen all the time you don't take a case?"

"No," Sherlock said. "Now stop making a big deal out of it and go and wash your hair. It smells like garlic bread."

"Fine," I replied and he raised a brow at me.

"And put some clothes on when you come back," he said. "If you plan to go out dressed like that then people may mistake you for someone who offers their services on street corners."

"It's my sleepwear!" I snapped. "I don't go out like this!"

"Good," he said as the man in his hold began to stir and dad moved his head, violently hitting it against the post of the banister. "Now if you'll excuse me I need to show our visitor out."

"Be my guest," I muttered and took off for the bathroom but not before I heard Mrs Hudson shout as my dad knocked on her door to dispose of a body.

A/N: Please review and let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

Third Person POV

"I had a row!" John yelled as he walked into the apartment, dropping his shopping bags onto the floor as Sherlock's lips twitched up slightly as he read the book in his hand. "The chip and pin machine wouldn't take my card."

"My card is on the side," Sherlock simply drawled. "I'll pay for the shopping this week."

"In that case I shall have a large bar of chocolate bringing back to me," Alison's sudden voice spoke as she walked back into the living room after showering and Sherlock frowned.

"Ever since you broke up with Damian you've put on three pounds," he told her. "You aren't in need of more food."

"Shut up," Alison simply muttered. "And I am not fat!"

"If you continue to eat your body weight in ice cream then you will be."

"Shut up," Alison said, placing more emphasis onto her words as she curled into a ball on the living room sofa and Sherlock looked at her for a second before going back to staring at his laptop screen, suddenly standing up and reaching for his jacket.

"We're off to the bank," he declared and John raised a brow.

"Why?" he asked, still grabbing his jacket and going along with Sherlock's plan whilst the consulting detective looked at his daughter.

"You're coming too."

"Why do I need to come?" she asked him.

"Because I said so."

"Why would I want to go to a bank?"

"Do as I say, Alison," Sherlock simply demanded and she huffed but stood up as he handed her the jacket she had left on the banister.

"You've become awfully odd," she informed her father. "First you insist on walking me home and next you demand I come to the bank."

"Clearly I just love having you in my presence," Sherlock said dryly and Alison snorted.

"We both know that's not true."

...

"When you said the bank..." John drawled as they approached the large building in Canary Wharf and Sherlock walked ahead of the pair of them as Alison's mouth dropped open.

"Do you even have permission to be here?" she asked her father, walking by his side and whispering up to him whilst he rolled his eyes.

"Of course," he said. "Although I can be anywhere I like when I have Mycroft's ID. You should hear of some of the secrets I know."

"That's called theft," Alison said to him and he chuckled lightly.

"He did have it coming."

Sherlock strolled up to the large desk on the first floor as Alison and John looked around their surroundings but kept on Sherlock's heels as he declared himself to the receptionist and then the three of them were led down multiple hallways and into an office where they stood momentarily before a man walked in.

"Sherlock Holmes," he declared, holding out his hand for Sherlock to shake and the detective took it.

"Sebastian," he simply replied. "This is John Watson, my friend."

"His colleague," John quickly interjected and nodded at Sebastian.

"And this is Alison...my...daughter..." Sherlock strangled the words out whilst Sebastian raised a brow and chuckled once, taking hold of Alison's hand.

"Pleasure," he slithered out the words and Alison smiled forcefully back whilst Sherlock coughed once. "So Sherlock, you sly dog, she's clearly seventeen or eighteen...who is her mother?"

"None of your concern," Sherlock replied.

"Natalie," Alison said, folding her arms. "She was called Natalie Wilson."

"Wilson?" Sebastian chuckled quickly and looked at Sherlock again. "The fit blonde who studied law?"

"Yes," Sherlock snapped back as Sebastian took his seat and Sherlock and John sat opposite his desk, leaving Alison to stare out the window as they spoke. "I can see you're doing well for yourself, Sebastian. You've gone around the world twice in the last month."

"Well some of us have to be successful, don't they?"

Alison looked on as her father and this man spoke and she could tell that he was never best friends with him and he never would be. They were both obnoxious but Sebastian didn't appreciate her father like John did.

"Anyway, I need you to investigate the break in which we've just had in William's office...they left a mark..." Sebastian said and he stood up, moving off to the room before Sherlock nodded at his daughter sternly and she followed him as they walked through the desks and then into the office of question. "Someone came up in the middle of the night and left the yellow paint. All the doors were locked and so we have no idea how they got in. Here's an advance...find the breach in the security."

"I don't need your money, Sebastian," Sherlock declared and stalked off whilst Alison and John's jaws fell to the floor.

"I will look after that," Alison smiled up at Sebastian and he grinned back down at her.

"I'm older," John interjected. "I'll take better care of it."

"I think Miss Holmes here is capable," Sebastian decided and handed her the cheque down and she looked at the amount of money on it and folded it into two, placing it into the small pocket in her blazer before her and John went back into the waiting room and waited for Sherlock to return from whatever he was doing.

"Are you finished?" Alison asked her father when he came back down. "We're on the other side of London and I need to get back and get ready for work."

"I'll call you a taxi," Sherlock said. "The painting was a message."

"What type of message?"

"No idea," Sherlock replied. "But Edward van Coon can help us."

"And who is he?"

"The next target, I imagine," Sherlock said back to his daughter as he stood on the roadside and called a taxi, allowing it to pull up to the side before he opened the door and went into his wallet, producing a twenty pound note and handing it to Alison. "I shan't be back until late tonight but I should be able to walk you home again. Take the money for the cab and text me when you get home and get to work."

"Are you feeling alright?" Alison wondered and Sherlock said nothing in reply.

"Go," he said and she jumped into the cab as Sherlock shut the door and John whistled lowly.

"You're becoming obvious."

"Oh shut up."

...

"Alison!" a sudden voice said and Alison looked down as she saw Molly Hooper sat in the restaurant she worked in and Alison stopped walking through the crowds, the tray in her hand full of empty drink glasses as she smiled at Molly.

"Molly," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here with Jim," she indicated to the man sat opposite her and he extended a hand to Alison who managed to take it.

"Nice to meet you," Jim said. "Molly has told me about you."

"Well she hasn't told me anything about you," Alison replied.

"You haven't been down to the morgue in a while...not that you would...dead bodies aren't for everyone..."

"Well...I've kind of been busy," Alison lied.

"Understandable," Molly nodded. "Your dad was in the other day though and he was whipping a corpse."

"My dad isn't normally this weird," Alison promised the man named Jim and he smiled once, raising his hands up and shaking his head.

"I'm not here to judge," he said. "And Molly speaks highly of Sherlock."

"Well you know," Molly laughed nervously, "he is very clever."

"So what brings you here?" Alison asked, changing the topic of her father. "I've never seen you here before."

"Jim said it looked nice," Molly replied. "We're kind of on a date and we're still in that stage...you know...well you have Damian don't you?"

Alison went quiet for a second, looking down at the floor and then back around the restaurant.

"I'd best be getting back to work," she said awkwardly.

"Oh," Molly said, picking up on her coldness. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Alison said quickly. "It's just that...we broke up," she coughed awkwardly, "he...um...cheated on me."

"Oh, Alison!" Molly gasped. "I am so sorry."

"No man should ever do that," Jim told Alison. "It's very disrespectful."

"Well he did," Alison said. "Anyway...I really best be getting back to work."

"Of course," Molly said. "Say hello to your dad."

"I will."

...

Alison and the waiter she was teaming up with named Patrick leant forward on the worktop where the food was served, their elbows pointing down and their heads resting in their hands as they watched Molly and Jim be the last ones in the restaurant, sipping on their wine and laughing together whilst Alison and Patrick waited for them to go so they could clear the table.

"Sickening, isn't it?" Patrick asked her and she raised a brow and looked to the side at him.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well they don't need to rub it in our faces, do they?"

"What's happened to get you down?" Alison wondered.

"Being dumped by text never does anything to get your spirits high."

"I'm sorry."

"No need to apologise for anything," Patrick shrugged as Molly and Jim stood up. "She was a bitch anyway."

"You two get off," the owner called to the teenagers. "I can clear that table."

"Thanks very much," Alison said and she walked to the door with Patrick as Molly and Jim stepped onto the footpath.

"So we're both unlucky in love?" Patrick quizzed Alison and she chuckled once as he held the door open for her.

"It would seem so...anyway...I'd best be going...my dad is just there."

"Okay," Patrick replied. "I shall see you on Sunday for the shift?"

"Look forward to it," Alison said as she walked over to her father who was speaking to Molly and Jim. He was clearly under sufferance.

"Alison!" Molly squeaked out. She had clearly taken too much of an advantage on the wine. "I was just telling Sherlocky here that I was on a date with Jim."

"Yes," Sherlock said lowly. "Enthralling story too."

"Don't be sarcastic," Alison hissed as Molly wrapped her arm into Jim's.

"It is hard not to be."

"Anyway," Jim interjected as Molly continued to giggle. "I'd best be getting this one home...it was nice to meet you Sherlock...and your daughter too...I can see why people take a shine to her."

"What did you say?" Sherlock suddenly snapped as the cab man's words went round in his head.

'Moriarty has taken quite a shine to her.'

"Nothing," Jim shrugged and Sherlock remained quiet as Jim began to walk off with Molly and Alison looked up at her father as they began to walk in the other direction.

"What was that about?" she asked him as he turned his head around, peering back and catching Jim doing the same thing, a smirk plastered onto his face as Sherlock narrowed his eyes and Jim chuckled, giving Molly his full attention once again.

"Dad?" Alison hissed again and Sherlock went back to looking straight forward, his arm automatically taking his daughter's and wrapping it into his own as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"It was nothing," he denied.

"What's going on?" Alison suddenly asked. "All of this not letting me out of your sight is really becoming too much."

"I do let you out my sight."

"Reluctantly," Alison replied. "If you're not going to tell me what is happening then what am I supposed to think?" she asked him as he heard his phone bleep and he pulled it from his pocket, reading the text from an anonymous sender.

'She really is a ray of sunshine.'

...

"What is this?" Alison snapped as she held up the ticket which her father had placed in front of her the next evening and he narrowed his eyes at the paper as Alison shook her head.

"I thought it was self explanatory," he replied in a drawl and Alison looked at him, her mouth falling open before she looked at the paper quickly.

"Why are you shipping me off to Australia?" she asked him. "Why are you sending me there?"

"You've been missing your mother-"

"-No I haven't!" Alison snapped quickly back at him, not allowing him to finish off the rest of his sentence as she stood up. "I haven't spoken to you about mum in ages! She'll be coming home soon anyway and I start college again in the next two weeks!"

"She isn't coming back," Sherlock replied quietly, walking up and down by his fireplace whilst Alison blinked quickly.

"What do you mean she isn't coming back?"

"I mean she is staying there for another three months."

"You're making this up."

"She called me last night whilst you were working," Sherlock replied. "She didn't particularly enjoy the conversation with me but it needed to be done."

"Why is she staying for another three months?"

"Your new stepfather seems to think Australia has a much better life than that of London," Sherlock spat out quickly, his thoughts going back to the text he had been sent. "Natalie wants you to join her and so I thought this would be a good thing."

"How is this good?" Alison roared. "How is sending me off to the other side of the world a good thing?"

"It will be good for you to see your mother. I am sure you can transfer to a college down there-"

"-Transfer!" Alison yelled. "I don't want to transfer!"

"I'm sure it will be fine," Sherlock promised her and she shook her head.

"I don't want to go! I want to stay here with you...why are you doing this?" she wondered and Sherlock looked at her, noting a tear in the side of her eye. "What's going on? Why are you acting weirder than normal? One minute you're keeping me by your side and the next you're telling me to go to Australia. I know I'm not as smart as you but I'm not stupid!"

Sherlock looked at her as she began to cry quickly and he folded his arms, his eyes looking to the side as he thought of what to tell her.

"I haven't been keeping you close," Sherlock muttered. "I've been doing what your mother would have wanted and she wants you to go out to Australia."

"I don't want to go," Alison sniffed loudly. "I want to stay here...in my own college..."

"You're going and that is final," Sherlock said sternly. "The flight leaves at four tomorrow morning."

"Well it can leave without me on it," Alison said, picking the ticket up and ripping it into shreds.

"I can just get you another one. You're forgetting your uncle runs the country."

"Then I will rip that up too. I am not going until you tell me what is going on," she said.

"This is for your own good, Alison!" Sherlock roared at her, finally blowing it as his normal pale face turned a deep red colour, his hands flying over his body as he spoke;

"I do things to keep you safe, Alison! I know you don't see it like that but I do! I wish you'd just listen to me because I know best!"

"Well why do you want me gone? Why is it so important for me to go? Do you not want me around?"

"Why would you think that?"

"All you do is moan at me all the time...I can never do anything right and even when I do you don't seem to care. You constantly berate me and miss important things which happen in my life!"

"No," Sherlock replied, shaking his head. "I don't moan all the time and I have remembered your birthday every year."

"Only because mum tells you," Alison snorted. "I love you dad...but...but I don't want you to keep hiding things from me. I know who you are and I know I can't change you but can you at least tell me what is going on. Don't I deserve that much?"

Sherlock remained silent, looking at his daughter and noticing how much she resembled her mother when she was upset as Sherlock had seen that many times whilst Natalie was bringing Alison up.

"I think there is someone willing to kill you," Sherlock simply muttered.

...

"And you have no idea who Moriarty is?" Alison asked her father an hour later as she sat on the sofa, her legs tucked up to her chin and Sherlock sat on his wooden chair at the desk.

"I have a hunch," he replied quietly. "I just need some more proof."

"So why...what do I do dad...what do I do now I know someone may want to hurt me?"

"You carry on as normal," Sherlock said simply. "You make sure he doesn't notice a change in your pattern because that will draw attention to you."

"Easier said than done," Alison complained. "But I don't have to go to Australia, do I?"

"It would be safer," Sherlock said.

"But it wouldn't be normal behaviour."

"This is true."

"I don't want to go...but I don't particularly want to die..."

"If you stay then we increase security, okay?"

"Yes," Alison muttered reluctantly.

...

Sherlock continued working late on into the night, trying to work out what the symbols meant from the office in the bank. He remained seated until he heard light breathing coming from his sofa and he saw Alison lay there, still wearing her jeans and vest top as she slept awkwardly on her neck. Sherlock looked at the clock which informed him it was two in the morning and he blinked quickly. He hadn't even heard John come in. He knew he should sleep but he didn't want to when there was a case. But he knew he should move his daughter. He slowly walked over to the sofa, nudging her on the shoulder as she stirred lightly.

"Go to bed, Alison," he told her and she grumbled lightly.

"Humph," she said and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Bed, Alison," he said deeply but she was still unresponsive. "I'm not carrying you to bed like a baby."

"No," she said and reached her arms out and Sherlock shook his head and finally gave in, realising she was still half asleep and as stubborn as he was. He hastily placed his arm around her shoulders, picking her up from under her legs and holding her to him as she placed her head against his shoulder. Sherlock tried to quickly and steadily move down the hallway to her room, managing to bump her head against the doorframe which only made her complain.

"Dad," she muttered as he placed her onto her bed, "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For yelling at you," she whispered. "I didn't want to."

"Forget about it," Sherlock replied. "Now go to sleep. Your mother wants to know why you won't go to Australia in the morning."

"You tell her," Alison complained, turning onto her side.

"I'm not facing her wrath. You can do that."

...

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviews and remember to let me know what you think so far! Reviews really are encouraging!


	8. Chapter 8

"And where do you even think you're going?" Sherlock asked when he saw his daughter move from her bedroom and she rolled her eyes as he continued working and not looking at her. John remained quiet, his eyes darting up from the book he had looked at and to Alison who was leaning against the doorway with her arms folded.

"Jenny is having a party."

"And does the fact that a man who may want to hurt you because of me not affect you slightly?"

"You said to keep going like normal," Alison pointed out. "Besides, Eleanor is driving me there and home and so you have nothing to worry about."

"I'm sure one party can't hurt," John nodded and Alison smirked back at him, looking at her father who still slamming books shut as he shook his head.

"You don't have to be boring the entire time dad," she said and he stood still, placing his hands onto his hips as he looked at her.

"And why would I be considered boring? I go out and examine dead corpses and do chemical experiments you could only dream about! Everything I do is not boring in comparison to you and John. You both seem to think the only exciting thing in life is Emmerdale!"

"Hey!" John snapped at Sherlock. "I resent that! The storyline at the moment is brilliant."

"I rest my case," Sherlock muttered and finally looked at Alison, nodding his head. "I want you to text-"

"-when I get there and every half an hour after." Alison finished off and Sherlock pouted lightly.

"And no drinking," he said. "I don't want a repeat of what happened earlier in the holidays."

"I wasn't that bad," Alison said.

"You persisted on calling me 'daddy' and telling me how much of an arse I was but you still loved me. Never mind the fact you were violently sick everywhere."

"We were all young once," John shrugged.

"And what are you planning on wearing?" Sherlock asked his daughter and her eyes went wide whilst she stood in the middle of the living room, looking down at her outfit.

"This?"

"I disagree."

"What?" she snapped. "Since when did you become an expert in women's fashion? Actually...since when did you become an expert in men's fashion?"

"I have good taste," Sherlock hissed.

"Did I or did I not pick out the majority of your wardrobe for you?"

"You're acting childish," Sherlock pointed out before picking up another book and reading through it again.

"The skirt isn't that short," Alison replied, placing the nude heels which were in her hand onto her feet whilst Sherlock snorted.

"When I was at school the girl's skirts used to be made of twice as much material as that is."

"And that was in the sixteen hundreds right?"

"Aren't we very witty tonight," Sherlock muttered under his breath as Alison looked at the clock and picked up her bag which was sat on the sofa.

"I'm witty every night. I'll see you both later."

"Have a good night," John told her.

"And you remember the talk, Alison?" Sherlock checked with her as she looked at him for a moment. "Biology is often enhanced when people drink and their hormones begin to rage-"

"Bye!" she interrupted him and Sherlock chuckled, allowing her to run out of the building whilst John cocked a brow and looked at Sherlock.

"What?" the detective asked. "I find winding her up most enjoyable."

...

"You hunk of junk!" Eleanor yelled as she and the four girls stood on the side of the road at twelve thirty in the evening whilst they looked at the car. Alison had her head leant on Penny's shoulder as she closed her eyes slightly, beginning to feel the full effect of the shots she had been taking earlier on in the night.

"Maybe you should call a mechanic?" Marie suggested and Eleanor shook her head.

"At half twelve at night?" she hissed. "Do you think they would answer?"

"Well we will just have to get a cab," Alison told them, her head beginning to pound as she stood up straight.

"I'll call for one," Marie said whilst Eleanor climbed out from her car, slamming the door to it and locking it, kicking it on the wheel one last time.

"Piece of crap," she complained.

"You okay, Al?" Penny suddenly asked. "You're looking a bit pale."

"I'm fine," she assured her, her stomach churning as she did so.

"The cab will be here in twenty minutes!" Marie suddenly spoke up and they all complained, settling themselves on the edge of the bonnet and waiting for the black cab. As soon as it turned up they all quickly climbed in, not saying much to each other as they began to text. Alison remained looking out the window, being made to travel backwards which didn't help her stomach as the cab driver dropped the girls off until it was just Penny and Alison.

"I am closest to be dropped off next," Penny muttered. "You don't mind do you?"

"I'll be fine," Alison waved it off. "Just leave the money."

"Positive?"

"Yes," Alison replied.

Penny finally gave Alison the money and bid goodnight to her friend whilst Alison slumped onto the back seat, not thinking about anything before she heard a clicking noise and she sat up slowly, her eyes looking at the doors which had just locked her into the cab.

"It is a shame about your friend's car," the cab driver spoke, his eyes narrowing into the rear view mirror as Alison looked at him.

"What's going on?" she managed to ask as he began to drive off.

"Nothing," he promised her. "I'm just going to drive you home."

"How do you know about the car?"

"Call it knowledge," he muttered. "How is your father? He seemed a bit on edge when I last saw him."

"Jim," Alison whispered, finally recognising his voice and he chuckled deeply.

"You remember me."

"What is this?"

"A friendly chat, sweetie...your father is becoming quite annoying towards me."

"I wouldn't know," she lied and he laughed again.

"You know it, Allie," he whispered. "You know everything he does."

"Look," Alison said, "I don't know what you're doing but if you have an issue with my dad then see him...and what is Molly in this?"

"My girlfriend," he replied. "She's loyal, I'll give her that."

"You're playing her," Alison whispered. "You're Moriarty...oh my God..."

"Your dad has told you about Moriarty then?"

"And you're him...aren't you?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny," he told her as he continued to drive.

"You don't need to," she muttered.

"221 B Baker Street isn't it?" he asked and Alison said nothing to him.

"Stop driving!" she demanded him, her stomach hurting her more than it had before as she pulled on the door handle. "Let me out!"

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said back to her. "Not until I need to and I do hope that day doesn't come...you truly are an intriguing human. It would be a waste."

Alison saw 221 come into view and her breathing became shallow as she reached for her bag which contained her phone and he stopped the cab.

"Open the door!" she yelled at him and he chuckled.

"Tell your dad it was nice to see you," he said to her as he unlocked the door and Alison stumbled out, finding the keys in her bag as Moriarty sped off in the cab and Alison unlocked the door to 221, shutting it quickly behind her as she kicked off her heels, running up the stairs and into the living room where John and Sherlock were still reading through books and she looked at Sherlock.

"Dad..." she gasped and Sherlock looked at her.

"What is it?"

"Moriarty," she simply said and he shut the book, looking at her before he walked over to stand opposite her, his hands on his hips.

"Be more specific, Alison," he said to her.

"He was driving the cab home because we had to take one because Eleanor's car wasn't working and he had caused that and I was last to be dropped off and he told me that you need to stop getting into his business," Alison blurted out and Sherlock clasped his hands together.

"Is that all?"

"I think so," Alison replied.

"She's clearly in shock," John interjected, standing up as Sherlock went over to his daughter, pointing to the sofa.

"Sit down," he said to her and she did as he said, her head bowing and she suddenly stood up, running off down the corridor and walking into the bathroom whilst Sherlock sighed.

"I hope she made it to the toilet," he complained, stalking off to find her knelt over the toilet before he bent down, patting her back and holding her hair back.

"And you've been drinking, haven't you?"

"If I say yes will I be in trouble?"

"No," Sherlock replied. "But you will be cleaning the bathroom because I don't want this stench lingering."

...

A/N: Thank you to everyone reading and please do review! Thanks!


	9. Chapter 9

"So what is it you're doing?" Alison asked her father as she sat on the sofa, the bucket from under the kitchen sink clutched to her chest and her head hanging over it as Sherlock looked at her and then back to John whose eyes were falling shut as his head bobbed about.

"It is about the cipher," he muttered simply. "Each victim had the same book and the numbers match up to a word on that page and we need to find out what the words are."

"Sounds deep," Alison said, her stomach wretched and she managed to spit out some vomit into the bucket whilst Sherlock wrinkled his nose and went back to slamming books down and up again.

"Too deep for you," Sherlock muttered. "Do you mind going to bed?"

"I can't sleep," Alison complained, managing to spit out more sick into the bucket.

"What would your mother say?" Sherlock wondered. "You're lucky I am not a strict parent."

"But you are a parent who manages to piss everyone off and they then want to kill me?"

"She has a point," John said as his alarm began to beep loudly and he rubbed his hands over his face. "I have a job."

"So?"

"So," John drawled, "that means I have to go to work."

"Work," Sherlock snorted. "Surely it is overrated?"

"I would actually second that one," Alison admitted, standing up and dumping her bucket into the sink, cleaning it out quickly before she poured out a glass of water. "I think I might try and go to sleep."

"That is what I have been telling you to do since three this morning," Sherlock muttered, slamming another book onto the pile of boxes which were in his room whilst John hastily moved around the apartment, grabbing onto everything he needed for work.

"I'll see you tonight," he said to Sherlock who didn't acknowledge his goodbye as he was too wrapped up in his work.

...

"Are you still looking through the books?" Alison asked when the clock struck four in the afternoon and she wandered back into the living room where Sherlock was searching his bookshelf. He looked over his shoulder, acknowledging her presence before he went back to looking.

"How is the hangover?" he asked her.

"Fine," she replied. "I've cleaned the bathroom too."

"Wonderful," Sherlock drawled. "We're going out tonight."

"Where are we off?"

"You shall see tonight."

"Please tell me it isn't to look at dead bodies," Alison pleaded, moving into the fridge and peering around and then grabbing the pot of pasta which she had made the previous day before sitting on the edge of the desk, her fork stabbing into the pasta and pushing it into her mouth.

"Unfortunately dead bodies aren't on the cards," Sherlock grumbled as the door opened and John walked in, his hands clasped together as he looked at the pair of them.

"I need some air. We're going out tonight," Sherlock declared, his hands pushing his hair forwards before he looked back at John.

"I can't," John spoke. "I have a date."

"Who is she?" Alison asked with her mouth full of pasta.

"Sarah," he said. "We work together at the clinic."

"Where are you taking her?" Sherlock managed to ask.

"To the cinema," John informed them.

"Dull," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Predictable too. Is that not where Damian took you on your first date?"

"Thanks for bringing up my cheating ex boyfriend," Alison snapped. "I really appreciate it."

"It was a simple question," Sherlock defended himself.

"Well yes it was," Alison hissed, shutting the lid on the pasta pot and slamming it back into the kitchen and then walking off down the hall and back into her room.

"What did I do?" Sherlock raised a brow, genuinely confused.

"I think you shouldn't mention Damian," John shrugged. "It is just a hunch."

"She needs to get over it sooner or later," Sherlock replied, his hand extending and pointing to the hall she had moved down. "I was only stating a fact."

"You really are oblivious to women, aren't you?"

"She's not a woman," Sherlock shook his head. "She's my daughter."

...

As soon as John left 221 B Sherlock put his plan into action. He grabbed his jacket and shrugged into it as he moved quickly to his daughter's room, opening the door with haste.

"It's polite to knock," she informed him.

"Get your jacket," Sherlock demanded. "We're going out."

"I'm not," Alison said and Sherlock placed his hands onto his hips.

"It is not up for debate, Alison," he promised her. "Now get your jacket."

"I don't want to go dad," Alison muttered.

"Is this because I mentioned Damian earlier?"

"No," she denied, placing her book down and rolling onto her side, her hand stuffing itself under her pillow.

"You're a terrible liar."

"I'm not," she denied and Sherlock sat on the side of her bed.

"You do know that love is only a chemical emotion, don't you?"

"So you keep reminding me," Alison whispered. "It's more than that though, dad."

"It really isn't," Sherlock promised her.

"I just thought he loved me back," Alison managed to whisper and Sherlock closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and not wanting to approach the topic but he knew he would have to.

"It is not worth getting upset about," Sherlock spoke. "He isn't worth your tears."

"I know," Alison agreed, "but I can't help but be upset."

"Well you shouldn't let him," Sherlock said and he stood up. "Now we're going."

"Do I have to?" Alison muttered.

"Yes."

...

"You dragged me all the way across town for a circus?" Alison checked; her voice full of boredom as Sherlock held the door open for her to move from the cab.

"It is for the case," Sherlock grumbled. "John and Sarah should be here too."

"Are you gate-crashing?" Alison commented. "Why is this for the case?"

"I think they're part of the Black Lotus and are smugglers," Sherlock said to her. "They're in town for one night only. I needed to come."

"So why are Sarah and John here?"

"I gave them the tickets."

"You couldn't give him one chance to go on a normal date, could you?"

Sherlock stepped into the large building with Alison by his side before they came to a counter where John was stood, declaring himself and saying there should be two tickets only to be told there were four.

"Why are there four tickets?"

"I called back and asked for another two," Sherlock said and he held his hand out to Sarah. "I'm Sherlock Holmes."

The blonde looked at John who had his eyes shut in frustration and then she looked back to Sherlock.

"Hey," she said hesitantly.

"Alison," Alison waved once and followed her dad off to the staircase where they stood to the side, allowing people to come past them.

"I really think this is mean," Alison said to him before John came behind them, standing on a step lower.

"You couldn't give me one day off?" John hissed at Sherlock. "I thought this was going to be just Sarah and me."

"Evidentially you thought wrong," Alison snorted as a man passed them on the staircase and John's hands went though his hair, shaking his head as he did so.

"They're in town for one night, John," Sherlock spoke back.

"I don't care! I have more pressing matters on my hands!"

"Like what?"

"He wants to get off with Sarah," Alison replied, shrugging her shoulders and then moving up the stairs to the main hall where a few others were stood around and she rocked back and forth on her heels before she felt a hand on the small of her back and she saw John behind her.

"Are you alright after earlier?" he checked with her and she shrugged.

"I'm fine," Alison managed to say. "My dad's attempt at a pep talk wasn't something which helped but he tried."

"He actually spoke to you about what he said?"

"Yeah," Alison whispered.

"He didn't realise it would upset you," John told her and she nodded.

"I know."

A gong suddenly sounded and John moved off to stand by Sarah whilst Alison stood next to her father, her eyes feeling droopy after her messed up body clock and stood close to her father, becoming a little apprehending as a man had to escape his bonds or risk being shot. As she stood there she didn't even realise that Sherlock had left her side. She turned around quickly but he was nowhere in sight. She moved around the crowd but before she had a chance to go anywhere she saw a man fly from behind the curtain, his jacket sprayed around him as he fell to the floor. Alison gasped quickly as the crowd parted and she saw a man from the circus run away and another one grabbed onto a stick, fighting her dad off him as Sherlock ducked his hits and John fell to the floor after being kicked by him. Alison managed to find another post which had been used in the act and she raised it up as she saw her dad be kicked to the floor. But before she had a chance to act Sarah was in there, a piece of wood raised in her hands and she hit the attacker of his head causing him to fall to the floor. They all gasped for breath before Alison chucked her weapon onto the ground and bent down, grabbing onto her dad's hand and helping him to stand up as he grabbed onto his stomach and looked at the body on the floor.

"Are you okay?" Alison asked her father, still holding onto his hand tightly and he looked down at her. She was genuinely concerned.

"I'm fine," Sherlock coughed. "We need to go."

...

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and let me know what you think! Please review!


	10. Chapter 10

"Dimmock is an idiot," Sherlock hissed as he managed to hail a cab after walking through Scotland Yard to tell the Inspector of what he had found and John had even managed to lose his temper slightly, wondering how Dimmock could let these smugglers run around town and not even flinch. Alison had stuck by her father's side after she had seen him being attacked. She had seen him face danger before but ever since she had learned about Moriarty she had been more on edge and she began to fear the worst.

"So what do you plan to do?" Alison asked as she sat beside her dad and he shrugged once.

"Solve this myself I imagine."

...

"I should go," Sarah said to Sherlock and John once they arrived back at 221 B.

"Yes," Sherlock said at the same time John said she didn't need to leave them be.

Sarah managed to force a smile onto her face before she spoke again; "Is it just me or is anyone else starving?"

"Oh God," Sherlock complained, looking through the books again whilst Alison hit him around the arm and John took over from Sherlock and led Sarah to the kitchen where he showed her to the bathroom before looking for snacks.

"She seems like a nice person," Alison told her dad. "Don't mess this up for John."

"Why would I mess it up for John?" Sherlock raised a brow.

"Just keep your comments to yourself."Alison warned him and he rolled his eyes, flicking through the books before she heard her phone go off and she groaned silently.

"You haven't told your mother that you're not going, have you?" Sherlock checked with her.

"I'm about to," she muttered and placed the phone to her ear.

"Hi, mum," Alison spoke and she walked through the kitchen where Mrs Hudson was saving John and providing him with snacks and nibbles.

"What are you doing, Alison?" Natalie snapped in the early morning of Australia's sunlight as she stood on the balcony and Geoff remained sleeping in the large double bed. "Your father said he thought you would come out to Australia?"

"I start college next week, mum," Alison protested, leaning against the wall in the hallway and sliding down it, her knees bending as she remained crouched down. "I don't want to go when I have to start college."

"Geoff has assured me he can manage to fit you into a college," Natalie promised her. "He has the twins booked in already and if he can't do anything then we can find a tutor."

"Or I could just stay here. Besides, if I were to transfer then when I came back my college may not take me back so I would be stuck," Alison informed her mother and Natalie pursed her lips slightly, biting down on her tongue as she wondered what to say.

"I...I think that was the idea...if you didn't like it then you could go back to London," Natalie managed to worm her words out. "The option to go back to London would always be there."

"You're staying in Australia?" Alison spat out.

"We have applied for a visa out here."

"Oh my God," Alison complained. "You're not coming home?"

"If we don't like it then we will. These three months are a trial period."

"Geoff has managed to twist you around his finger then?" Alison spat out venomously and Natalie sighed lightly.

"He likes it out here, Al," Natalie said. "I don't mind it. It is growing on me."

"And what about finding a job?" Alison asked her mother.

"I don't need to, Alison," Natalie spoke. "Geoff has transferred with his company to a higher post down here and it means I can look after the twins and I could look after you if you came down here. You can give up that waitressing job you always complain about."

"I'm seventeen," Alison spoke. "I don't need looking after."

"You've been spending too much time with your father to think that," Natalie snorted. "I'm your mother, Alison, and I want to look after you."

"I don't know mum," Alison said quickly. "I don't want to move but I don't really want you to stay down there."

"It would be better for you down here with me."

"But I like London," Alison replied. "I like my college and...well...what about dad?"

"I am also your parent too, Alison," Natalie said sternly. "Do you not miss me?"

"Of course I miss you, mum," Alison said. "I just don't want to leave London and dad, is that so bad?"

Natalie didn't reply to the question and she remained silent for a few moments before she sniffed down the phone.

"You do what you want to, Alison," she said. "I want you out here but you're old enough to know what you want. So it is up to you, okay?"

"Okay mum."

"I will speak to you later," Natalie said and she hung up the phone whilst Alison did the same, dropping her head down and placing her phone into her blazer pocket whilst she thought about the conversation she had just had. Her mother had just hung up on her without declaring how she loved her. Alison had never had a phone call like that before. Her mother always said she loved her even when she was away for half an hour with a friend. Alison didn't have long to think about what she had just said before she heard the clattering of dishes from the kitchen. She slowly stood up, walking into the kitchen before she saw a mess on the floor and a man stood in the centre of it all, indicating to two others what to do. And then she saw the unconscious bodies of Sarah and John. Before she had a chance to run back down the hallway the man had spotted her and she froze momentarily, bolting down the hallway when she realised she hadn't moved.

"Get off me!" Alison yelled as he grasped her around the waist, slamming her head first onto the wall, his hands wrapping into her blonde hair.

"And who would you be?" he whispered, pressing her into the wall so she struggled to breath whilst his lips lingered by her ear.

"It is none of your damn business who I am!" she yelled back at him and he chuckled once, pulling her hair back and then slamming her face against the wall before she blacked out and felt blood trickling down her forehead.

...

"Mr Holmes," John woke up to that greeting, his eyes groggily opening before he looked around the dark tunnel which he was in. He tried to move but was unable to whilst he saw the woman stood opposite him and he blinked several times, seeing Sarah on the chair next to his and then Alison to the other side of him, slowly coming around.

"Excuse me?" John asked. "Holmes?"

"You are Mr Holmes, are you not?" she asked him and John shook his head.

"No," he said. "What is this?"

"You cannot fool us, Mr Holmes," the woman hissed. "I had hoped you would see that."

"I'm not," John shook his head.

"We have evidence which suggest otherwise," she chuckled lightly. "You purchased tickets in the name of Holmes...this cheque in your wallet is made out to Sherlock Holmes and we even heard you refer to yourself by the name Sherlock Holmes."

"No!" John yelled quickly. "That is not me."

"It isn't," Alison hissed along with John and she chuckled.

"And Alison Holmes as we have found out from your BlackBerry," she held the phone up and Alison turned red at the thought of someone having her phone which she kept her life in. "The daughter of Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes," Alison replied. "He is not Sherlock Holmes though."

"I think we both believe otherwise. Now, Mr Holmes, all we need is to know where the treasure is."

"I don't know what you're on about," John denied as Sarah struggled to talk through her gag.

"So you need a pointer in the right direction then," she deduced. "I need a volunteer," she spoke, pointing at Sarah. "You shall do...and we will have the daughter...actually Mr Holmes, who would you prefer to see die?"

"Don't you dare!" John yelled at her. "Don't you dare hurt any of them."

"I think the daughter will be more interesting," she assured the men who picked Alison's chair up and moved her to sit in front of a cross and bow and Alison shook her head.

"He's not Sherlock Holmes!"

"You would be saying that."

"Oh God," Alison began to cry as they cut the bag of sand which would fire an arrow into her heart and kill her.

"I'm not Sherlock Holmes!" John protested louder than he had done before.

"I don't believe you."

"You really should," a sudden voice called out into the dark tunnel and they all tried to turn around. "He isn't a bit like me, are you John? What would you call me? Charismatic? Genius?"

"Late?" Alison suggested through her crying.

"And I wouldn't fire that gun," Sherlock called out, still hiding in the shadows. "We both know it would only echo around this tunnel and possibly kill you or anyone."

The woman seemed to take in what he had said before and she dropped her gun to her side before grunts were heard and Sherlock appeared, his arm being twisted by a burly man as he tried to escape the hold.

"Dad!" Alison yelled as the sand nearly ran out and Sherlock heard her plea, looking to the side and seeing the bow and arrow nearly ready to fire. He quickly moved his weight so that the man who had his arm in a lock was moving to the side. Sherlock kept him there in time for the bow to fire into his chest. The consulting detective looked around the room for the woman but she had disappeared. He sighed once, picking up the knife the man had dropped to the floor and cutting John free and allowing him to tend to Sarah before he moved to Alison.

"You're okay now," he promised her. "You're okay."

"I...I thought I was going to die...I didn't..."

"Sh," Sherlock told her, removing the rope from her hands as she shook and he knelt in front of her as she continued to cry and he moved his hand to her cheek, his thumb removing the tears from her skin. "There's no need to cry Alison. You're safe now."

Alison managed to nod once before Sherlock stood up, offering her his hand and she took it quickly.

...

"She's gone to bed," Sherlock informed John when he walked out into the living room wearing his pyjamas and dressing gown and then settling down onto the sofa. "How was Sarah?"

"She said she has had worst first dates," John shrugged and Sherlock raised a brow.

"I doubt that."

"As do I," John replied. "But she is keen to see me again."

"That's hard to believe," Sherlock muttered and he yawned once. "I suppose I had best do that tedious thing which you call sleep."

"I couldn't agree more," John said and he stood up, "I'll see you in the morning."

Sherlock turned the lights in the living room off before he stood up and wandered off into his room, turning on the small lamp on his bedside cabinet before he pulled the covers back. He lay there for a second before there was a knock on his bedroom door.

"What is it, Alison?" he called out and she opened the door, her phone in her hand before Sherlock sat up and raised a brow in expectance.

"I think...I think he just text me."

"Who is he?"

"Moriarty," she told her dad.

"Come here and let me see," he instructed her and she sat on the edge of his bed and handed him the phone which he took, nodding as he did so and handing it back to her.

"He was helping the smugglers then," was the only thing which Sherlock said. "I don't think he will try anything."

"I had a row," Alison suddenly blurted out, placing her phone on the side, her back still turned to Sherlock as she spoke. "I don't think it was a row really...but...mum probably hates me."

"Your mother can't hate you," Sherlock muttered. "She is your mother."

"She's annoyed with me then," Alison said. "She's staying in Australia."

"And?"

"She wants me to go with her."

"You said no, I presume," Sherlock checked and she nodded.

"I don't know what to do," Alison said and began to well up again. "I love her...but I don't want to go..."

"You do what you want to," Sherlock simply said. "You are seventeen."

"That doesn't make things any easier."

"You don't need to become emotional, Alison," Sherlock said to her.

"Well you wouldn't know what emotional is, would you?" she spat out. "You're like some kind of mechanical robot who doesn't feel anything! I mean...you didn't even flinch when I almost died tonight...and you didn't even bother to care when that psycho held me captive in the back of his cab! Do I even mean anything to you?"

"You're my daughter, Alison."

"That's the only thing you ever say," Alison complained. "You don't...you don't love me...you've never said it."

"It is how I am, Alison," Sherlock informed her. "I don't express feelings."

"Would it kill you to do that for once though?" Alison wondered. "I am your only child."

"Do you not think I worried when I saw you were missing?" Sherlock asked her. "I did my upmost to get you back."

"Only because you had to."

"I didn't have to," Sherlock shook his head. "Now all of these emotions have overwhelmed you and you're not talking sense. You need to go to sleep."

"I can't," she complained simply.

"Alison," Sherlock complained and she turned her head to look at him.

"What?"

"You can't sleep because you don't want to be alone," Sherlock said. "I can tell."

"So?"

"If you are anchoring to stay in here then I am against it but I shall not complain."

"Makes a change," Alison snorted. "Fine," she said. "I am kind of spooked out by that text."

"Well be quiet and go to sleep," Sherlock told her and she lay down on the cushion, not speaking for a moment before Sherlock deduced what she was thinking.

"And if you insist on being close to me then you had best not snore or speak or do anything which could annoy me for I need rest too," he told her and she turned onto her other side, moving closer to her father before he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and he felt her drift off to sleep before he muttered lightly.

"And I do love you," he spoke. "I am not completely devoid of human emotion."

...

A/N: Thank you to anyone reading and please do review! Thank you!


	11. Chapter 11

"That was dull," Sherlock complained as soon as he entered his flat and his daughter walked behind him, clutching onto her college bag on her shoulder whilst Sherlock rushed ahead, his legs taking two steps at a time and Alison rolled her eyes, dumping her college bag onto the floor and removing her jacket which she had been wearing.

"You were the one who offered to take me out for dinner," Alison informed him. "I am sorry if it was dull for you."

"I thought that eating would take my mind off the boredom," he moaned, shrugging out the long grey coat he was wearing and hanging it up before flopping onto the sofa.

"You didn't care for my company?" she checked and he shrugged.

"Your stories of dull college life was enough to stimulate my drain," he muttered and she threw a cushion at him before picking up her laptop which she had left on the floor and opening it up, switching it on.

"I am sorry I wasn't exciting enough to spend time with," she said to him and he shrugged awkwardly.

"No one tends to be interesting to me so don't be offended," he said to her and she remained silent before Sherlock spoke again. "Did you speak to Damian?"

"No," she replied curtly. "I saw him in E Block but didn't say anything."

"I suppose that is for the best," Sherlock muttered. "I'm off to change."

"It is only six o'clock."

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied. "I may as well make myself comfortable."

...

"You need to put that down," Alison told her father as he held John's gun in his hands, dangling it by his side after he had shot at the wall twice.

"Why?"

"Because it is a dangerous weapon," Alison replied. "It isn't something to mess around with."

"That is debateable," Sherlock shrugged as they heard the door slam shut downstairs and Alison caught the grin on her father's face before he shot at the wall and then saw John walk through the door, his hands covering his ears.

"What the hell is this?" he snapped at Sherlock as the detective shot at the wall again.

"Bored," he muttered.

"What?"

"I'm bored!" he exclaimed, standing up and shooting the wall at different angles whilst Alison flinched but did nothing to stop her father whilst John did the opposite, taking the gun from him.

"And the wall deserved to bear the brunt of your boredom," John said dryly whilst Sherlock pouted lightly.

"The wall had it coming," he complained.

"I am sure it did. I thought you two were supposed to be out for tea?"

"We were," Sherlock muttered. "I only took enough money for a main course so Alison couldn't order more food and gain another unnecessary three pounds."

"Arse," Alison muttered so he couldn't hear her but John chuckled once at her facial expression.

"Do you want some tea?" John called out.

"I don't."

"Yes," Sherlock muttered, lying on his sofa once again whilst John went into the fridge for the milk and automatically shut it, blinking several times before he opened it again.

"A severed head," he muttered.

"What was that?" Alison asked as she looked into the kitchen and saw John peering at something and muttering to himself.

"A severed head!" he yelled out and Sherlock cocked a brow.

"Just tea for me thanks."

"There's a severed head in the fridge!" John yelled.

"Where else was I supposed to put it?" Sherlock asked.

"Are you kidding me?" Alison asked, dropping her laptop lid down and placing the machine onto the floor, opening the fridge whilst John continued to argue with Sherlock about how severed heads weren't acceptable to keep around the flat.

"You are getting rid of that," Alison told her father sternly. "You are also going to clean the fridge."

"Are you ordering me about?" Sherlock checked, sitting up and looking at Alison whilst she nodded.

"Yes I am," she said quickly back to him.

"Humph," he muttered, "you're just like your mother."

"Thank you very much."

"I saw the blog post," Sherlock finally said when John and Alison had sat back down. "A Study in Pink."

"Did you like it?"

"No," Sherlock said, popping his lips as he did so.

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered?"

"He doesn't even notice when girls are flattering him," Alison pointed out. "He considers it shallow and he is oblivious to the action of it."

"I know that your friend, Poppy, is infatuated with me, if that is what you're referring to," Sherlock informed Alison and she blinked quickly.

"How do you know that? I never-"

"-You don't need to say anything. Her actions are quite obvious. I wasn't flattered, John."

"Why not?"

"I see through everything and everyone," Sherlock snapped. "Did you really think I would be flattered?"

"I thought you'd be impressed," John shrugged.

"I know everything," Sherlock hissed, "of course I would not have been impressed."

"You didn't know the earth went round the sun."

"That is kind of irrelevant," Alison said and Sherlock allowed a smug grin as John looked at his flatmate's daughter.

"How it is irrelevant?" John snapped. "It is primary school knowledge."

"But as long as the sun is there and the Earth has it then it doesn't really matter what happens to make it that way."

"I can't believe you two," John shook his head as Sherlock flopped onto his side and John stood up.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked him, managing to turn his head and look at him.

"I'm going to stay at Sarah's," John replied. "You two can Google the solar system."

"I think we're good," Alison replied before they saw Mrs Hudson walk up the steps, placing her hands onto her hips.

"Honestly you two," she sighed, "can one of you do your own shopping?"

"I've been at college and he is just lazy," Alison told the woman whilst Sherlock jumped up, looking out the window as John walked down the street.

"It's dull, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock complained as the landlady stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips.

"They'll be a nice murder soon, Sherlock," she promised him. "What the hell did you do to my wall?"

Sherlock looked at his handiwork and he smirked.

"You'll be paying for that," Mrs Hudson snapped and left the room.

"Oh, Alison," Sherlock complained. "What is going on now?"

"I-" Alison began to say but was interrupted as she heard a large bang enter the room and she was knocked unconscious.

...

"I don't need to stay overnight," Alison pouted as she sat in a hospital bed and Sherlock looked at her, his hand resting on her forehead to make sure she didn't have a temperature before he shook his head.

"You're warm and bruised," he told her. "They want to make sure you don't have concussion too."

"I don't!" she snapped quickly. "I don't have anything wrong with me."

"That's debateable," Sherlock muttered. "You'll be discharged tomorrow and I will pick you up then."

"What?" Alison replied. "You can't stay with me?"

"You're over sixteen," Sherlock told her. "Hospital policy says I can't and besides, there isn't enough room for me."

"Fine," Alison admitted defeated.

"And there will also be no leaving here unless I know about it," Sherlock warned her and she nodded.

"I won't," she promised. "Where will you go?"

"Home."

...

"I have to go and pick Alison up," Sherlock announced to John as soon as his brother had left the flat the following morning. "I am sure she had a better night sleep than you did on that sofa."

"Probably," John admitted. "How is she?"

"Possibly shaken up," Sherlock replied, "but apart from that she is fine."

"And what was the cause of this explosion?"

"A gas leak," Sherlock muttered.

"You don't sound convinced."

"I'm not."

Two weeks later

"Dad!" Alison yelled as she walked through the flat after retrieving the post. Sherlock hadn't been busy for the last few weeks but he could feel something was brewing. A storm was coming and he knew it. But he didn't tell Alison of what he thought. He had kept her by his side for the last two weeks, assuring her that college was not an issue for her to worry about. He didn't want her leaving when he knew Moriarty could be about to strike. Sherlock remained seated in his armchair, occasionally looking at the BlackBerry which was on the arm.

"What is the bellowing for?" he asked her and she handed him the envelope before he cocked a brow at her.

"I thought you would have taken care of college," he told her and she shook her head.

"You said there was nothing to worry about!" she snapped. "I presumed you had sorted it."

"I wouldn't deal with such trivial things," he waved it off. "At least you don't have to moan about it anymore."

"I have been kicked out of college!" Alison bellowed. "I've been kicked out...oh God...mum is going to kill me...I can't believe this has happened. Has no one phoned you about my attendance before now?"

"No," Sherlock replied. "I don't think they have my number. What about your phone?"

"It was destroyed in the explosion and I keep moaning at you to buy me a new one."

"Well college isn't all that is made out to be," Sherlock promised her. "My Oxford education was one I did just because I could-"

"-But I don't have a choice do I?" Alison snapped at her father.

"You're being melodramatic. You can get into another college," he replied just as he heard his phone ring and he jumped up, his heart rate speeding up as he saw Lestrade was phoning him.

"There's been a package," Lestrade told him and Sherlock's brows furrowed together.

"And is that breaking news?"

"It is for you," Lestrade simply said.

"I'll be there soon."

Sherlock hung up with haste and grabbed his coat, dropping his phone into it before he reached for his scarf.

"Get your coat, Alison," he demanded and she did as he had asked.

"You're telling mum about this," she said to him as he called for John and began to walk down the stairs.

"I don't think so," he replied.

"I do," Alison said and Sherlock turned to look at her again whilst he opened the door.

"You can tell your mother that," he hissed and Alison's eyes went wide as she looked over her father's shoulder and her eyes went wide and Sherlock followed her gaze before blinking ferociously.

"Tell your mother what?" Natalie Mallon asked the pair of them, her arms folded and her face showing the result of jet lag whilst her hair was pushed into a tall bun. "You two have a lot of explaining to do."

...

A/N: Thank you to everyone reading and please do review to let me know what you think!


	12. Chapter 12

"I'm afraid we don't have time to talk at the moment," Sherlock informed the mother of his daughter as he tried to shimmy past her but she stood in front of him, her eyes glaring into his.

"I'm afraid you do have time and even if you don't then you will make time," she growled lowly. "Now get back into the flat."

"You can't order me-"

"-Don't test me, Sherlock!" Natalie snapped whilst Alison remained quiet and stood on the step of 221 B as John walked out after being called by Sherlock a minute earlier.

"What's going on?" John wondered.

"This is Alison's mother," Sherlock informed him, "and she is just leaving."

"You can fu-"

"-Not in front of our daughter, Natalie," Sherlock spoke, a smug grin on his face as he did so. "There's no need for swearing."

"Don't make me kill you," she hissed and Sherlock sighed once, realising Natalie was stubborn and not going anywhere.

"Go and see Lestrade," Sherlock spoke to John. "I shall be there as soon as I get rid of her."

"Okay," John said and managed to squeeze past them all, his eyes looking at Natalie as she folded her arms and Alison headed back into the flat and Sherlock and Natalie followed closely behind.

"I am guessing you are here because you know Alison has been kicked out of college," Sherlock raised a brow, standing in his coat near the windowsill whilst Alison stood near the desk, resting on the edge of it and Natalie remained in the doorway.

"The college phoned me the other day informing me they couldn't get in touch with her or her father," Natalie spoke. "She's had two weeks of unreported absence. And then I phoned both of you and no one answered. So do inform me what the hell is going on!"

"It is a long story," Sherlock warned her.

"I don't have a flight booked home," Natalie replied.

"That is much to my dismay."

"I can take our daughter back with me," Natalie hissed and Alison finally spoke;

"I can decide what I want to do for myself."

"Clearly you can't look after yourself because you managed to get yourself kicked out of college. I hope there is a really good explanation for this or else..." Natalie left her threat open and Sherlock sighed once, his hand massaging his temple.

"My cases seem to be dealing with a criminal mastermind," Sherlock informed her. "This criminal mastermind goes by the name of Moriarty and there was an explosion the other night and Alison's phone was destroyed so you couldn't contact her and I think I blocked your number after you kept harassing me via calls."

"I did wonder why your windows were covered by paper... why haven't you sorted it yet?" Natalie asked. "Was anyone badly hurt?"

"I went to stay in hospital overnight," Alison shrugged. "I didn't really need to."

"How bad was it?" Natalie asked, her motherly instinct taking over her and Alison shrugged.

"It was just cuts and bruises."

"And is this criminal mastermind behind the explosion? And why does he want anything to do with you?"

"One question at a time," Sherlock complained. "He has been behind a group of international smugglers and a cab driver who was killing to gain money and I uncovered his plots and now it seems that he would like nothing more than to hurt me and he seems to think the only way to do that is by hurting Alison."

Natalie remained quiet for a moment, thinking about what Sherlock had just told her before she looked at her daughter and then back to Sherlock, her eyes wide and tearing.

"You kept her from college to keep her safe," she stated and Sherlock shrugged awkwardly.

"I knew you wouldn't approve if I put her into danger," Sherlock said and Natalie opened her arms as she walked over to her daughter and held her tightly.

"Oh, baby," she sighed, pressing her daughter's blonde curls down with her hand and Alison hugged her mother back whilst Sherlock checked his watch. "I didn't know. Why didn't you say anything? You could have told me."

"I didn't know how to," Alison shrugged. "I guess I just thought it wouldn't get out of control like this."

"Sweetie," Natalie cooed. "Why don't you go and have a lie down? I need to speak to your father."

Alison knew that was her code for being dismissed and she let go of her mum as the elder woman kissed her on the cheek and she left the room as Sherlock nodded at her once. She walked down the hallway and didn't hear anything, knowing her parents would be waiting for her to be in her room before they spoke.

"I knew you had cases, Sherlock," Natalie spoke dangerously low, her face turning red. "I didn't know they could be as dangerous as this and bring our daughter into trouble."

"I didn't plan for this to get out of hand," Sherlock promised her. "You know I would never want to put Alison into danger."

"But as long as there is the case then it is fine, isn't it?" Natalie said scathingly and Sherlock narrowed his eyes, his breathing shallow as the woman spoke to him.

"I would never do anything to hurt Alison," he assured her. "She is my daughter.

"Then if you care for her so much then why did you not send her on the first flight to me to get her away from this danger?"

"I tried to," Sherlock promised her. "She wouldn't go to you and I couldn't make her."

"You can make her do anything," Natalie snapped at Sherlock. "You can control her and we both know it."

"I could not do it that time," Sherlock hissed. "I couldn't send her away when she didn't want to go."

"Well she's coming with me now," Natalie replied, dropping the bag she had been holding in her hands onto the ground, her eyes looking onto the carpet. "I am not letting you keep her here...is that a gun?"

Sherlock looked to the side where he had left the instrument he had been playing around with earlier and he quickly placed an old newspaper over it.

"No," he lied and Natalie shook her head.

"Why do I even allow Alison to stay here? You're clearly not cut out to be a parent-"

"-I have done everything for Alison," Sherlock told her. "I have given her a home and made sure she has everything she needs-"

"-You provide material things for her...but...she needs love, Sherlock. She needs you to be a father and show her you care."

"And how do you know I don't do that?"

"Because this is you we're talking about!" Natalie yelled at him. "You don't do emotion! What am I supposed to think?"

"She's my daughter too, Natalie. You think I don't feel the same way you do about her?"

"I know in your own twisted way you do," Natalie managed to sigh. "If you care for her then you will tell her to come with me. Do you not want her to be taken away from this?"

"Of course I do," Sherlock spat out. "I tried to get her onto a plane earlier."

"Try harder this time," Natalie pleaded. "Just get her to come with me."

"You don't seem shocked that I am in this predicament," Sherlock commented.

"Nothing about you shocks me anymore."

...

"Where is mum?" Alison asked her father when he walked into her room and she was sat in her chair at her desk as Sherlock shut the door.

"In the living room and commenting on the contents of my fridge," Sherlock muttered. "I do hope she doesn't open the microwave."

"I heard you two rowing," Alison told her father. "I know why you're here."

"Then you know that you have to go," Sherlock spoke, his voice managing to be soft. "Your mother was right, Alison."

"What about you?"

"I can look after myself," Sherlock assured her. "You can't do that yet."

"I don't want to go dad," Alison sighed. "I don't want to leave you in danger here and I get to go to safety."

"I'm your father, Alison," he whispered. "It is natural for me to send you to the safe place."

"I don't have a say this time, do I?"

"Something tells me you don't really want a say," Sherlock informed her. "You want to go to safety."

"I just don't want to leave here," she shrugged.

"I'll miss the free pizza you bring home," Sherlock told her and she smiled lightly which caused his lips to move up slightly and then back down.

"So will I," she agreed.

...

"Are you not going to be coming to the airport?" Natalie asked as she stood on the step of 221 B and Sherlock shook his head at her. They were waiting for Alison to come down with her case as the cab sat parked on the side of the road for the pair of them.

"I don't think Alison needs to prolong the goodbye from me," Sherlock said coldly to Natalie and she nodded once.

"Will you miss her?" she blurted out. "Do you like having her with you?"

"If I didn't like having her with me then I would have made her live with you," Sherlock said to her. "Does that answer your question?"

"You should be a politician," Natalie snorted. "You never can answer a question with a blunt answer when it comes to what you're feeling."

"I shall leave the politics to my brother who, incidentally, has two tickets for the plane for you when you arrive at the airport. It is first class I do believe," he said.

"Well," Natalie coughed, "thanks...I guess."

"It wasn't me who got the tickets," Sherlock said as Alison walked out and joined the pair of them. She stood beside her mother with her large black case and Natalie stroked her hair and looked around for a second.

"I'll put your case into the cab and give you and your father a moment," she said to her daughter and then moved off. Alison stood opposite her father as he looked down Baker Street.

"I'll see you again," he told his daughter. "You don't need to look so morbid."

"How can I help it?" she replied. "I'm leaving you here when someone wants to possibly kill you."

"It isn't your problem," Sherlock told her. "Now you need to be going. A long goodbye will only make you feel worse."

"You will say goodbye to John for me, won't you? I think he does you some good."

"He's a good pet. Better behaved than you," Sherlock mused. "I will say goodbye to him for you."

"And Molly...if Jim really is Moriarty then you need to make sure he doesn't hurt her."

"He wouldn't," Sherlock said quickly. "And I shall say goodbye to Mrs Hudson. Now get into your cab Alison."

"Okay," Alison nodded but remained stood firmly to the pavement and Sherlock sighed simply.

"You have approximately ten seconds to do that trivial thing you call 'hugging' to me and then you will go," he demanded and Alison held onto her father tightly, her head resting on his chest as his hands rested on her back.

"I'm going to miss you dad," she muttered.

"Likewise, Alison," he replied, stroking her hair lightly and then she let go of him, climbing into the cab and looking at her mother who smiled strongly at her.

"You'll see him again," she promised Alison and the girl nodded once.

"I know."

...

Sherlock ignored the phone calls from John who wondered when he would come and see Lestrade. He picked up his violin and began to compose music instead. He scratched notes down onto the paper on the stand and sighed lightly, seeing his screen lighting up with an unknown number which had text him. He picked it up, opening the text and his eyes went wide.

_Flight 212 from London to Melbourne, may just be interrupted with a big bomb. _

Sherlock reread the text again and his mind fizzled with numbers. He knew Flight 212 was his daughter's. The part which worried him was the bomb. He needed to stop that flight.

...

A/N: Thank you to everyone reading and please do review! Thank you!


	13. Chapter 13

"These waits are long and tedious," Natalie informed her daughter as they sat in the first class waiting room after booking in under the name of Holmes. Alison shrugged lightly, not wanting a conversation at that moment in time and didn't Natalie know it. Her daughter had been quiet on the way to the airport and hadn't said anything since they had passed through security.

"You'll see him again," Natalie whispered. "I can promise you that."

"I don't know when I will see him though, do I?" Alison replied; her voice low and her eyes looking straight out of the large glass window of Terminal five and her mother sighed lightly, crossing her legs and running a hand on the top of her head just before her bun.

"You'll see him sooner than you think," Natalie nodded. "You need to realise you're leaving for your own safety."

"I know," she nodded. "Why weren't you surprised when dad told you about Moriarty?"

Natalie pursed her lips for a second, swapping her legs over and resting her hands onto her lap as she thought about what to say.

"I knew what your father did for a living before I got in touch with him about you. I had spent a long time wondering if it would be right for him to see you due to safety issues. I didn't want you to get hurt but I didn't want to keep you from him. Sherlock has always been one for trouble. At university he had himself punched in the nose for exploiting an affair. He warned me things could turn ugly and there could be danger if you were to stay with him...but the way he looked at you when he first met you...I can't explain it."

...

"And what is your evidence for this bomb?" Mycroft asked down the phone as Sherlock sat in the back of a London cab. He was on edge and unable to sit still, bouncing around whenever he could and frantically looking out the window, his eyes darting up to signs and then back down as he spoke to Mycroft.

"I think Moriarty sent me a text," Sherlock said quickly. "I am sure it is him and he knew what flight Alison and Natalie were taking. I don't know how he knows and I don't care at the moment. You need to ground that flight."

"Do you honestly think I have the power to do that with no real evidence?" Mycroft hissed. "The transportation department is not my area and if you're wrong then I could be sacked."

"This is my daughter's life we are talking about, Mycroft!" Sherlock roared. "I expect you to do everything you can to ground the flight."

"How certain are you that this is real and not just something to mess with your mind?"

"I'm not," Sherlock replied. "You know doubt is not something I associate myself with but at this moment in time I shall allow it to happen."

"I shall try and delay," Mycroft said. "Get to the airport and use one of the passes you stole from me to get to Alison."

"How do you know I –"

"-I'm your brother, Sherlock," Mycroft said and he simply hung up.

...

"There are maintenance checks being run," Natalie said when she walked back from the information desk with her arms folded. Alison was stood near the glass windows and looking onto the runway as she raised a brow.

"They're leaving it a bit late," she said and Natalie shrugged.

"The flight should leave in another half an hour if they find nothing wrong with it."

"Right," Alison nodded and Natalie sighed once.

"I'm thirsty," she commented. "Do you want to come and get a coffee or something?"

"I'm fine here," Alison replied and Natalie pursed her lips but wandered off to buy her drink.

...

Sherlock checked his watch which informed him that half an hour had passed since Mycroft had told him he would do what he could to delay the flight. Sherlock continued bouncing on the edge of his seat as the cab pulled up to the airport and became grounded in traffic and it became apparent that Sherlock was not moving any further than this.

"Here," he said and shoved some money for the cab driver who looked into the back seat and Sherlock vacated it.

"Don't you want to wait until-"

"-No!" Sherlock interrupted and began to run along the pavement on his way to Terminal five. His feet pounded against the grey flat surface as he moved along the crowds of people with suitcases who were either in front of him or walking into him on their way to greet relatives. People swore at the detective as he passed but he ignored them, his long grey coat moving out behind him and his hands sweating in his leather gloves. As soon he reached the terminal he looked up to the sign which showed him departures and he followed it quickly, pushing people out of his way up the escalators as he did so and skipping the check in desk.

"Flight 212," he whispered, looking at the board before security which informed him that the flight was boarding. Clearly Mycroft hadn't found anything on the plane. But Sherlock didn't allow this to deter him. He wasn't letting Alison onto the flight and that was final. He moved into security, only to be stopped by a burly security guard as he showed him his ID.

"The Government?" he asked. "Which department?"

"I am the government," Sherlock hissed and the man nodded once.

"I'll just have to scan it to make sure you have permission to be here," he informed Sherlock as he scanned it at the security desk and it informed him that he did have permission.

"Go straight ahead, Mr Holmes," he said and Sherlock did as he was told, moving past the queue of people who were placing their belongings onto a conveyer belt. Sherlock skipped past security and into the waiting room. He looked around until he realised they would be in first class which was through another door. Sherlock gasped in a deep breath and then took off down the rows of seats, running as fast as he could to the first class departure lounge where the queue was slowly depleting. He looked down the tunnel but he couldn't see any sign of his daughter and he realised she must have already be on the plane.

"Sir," a woman spoke as Sherlock began to move in the queue, pushing past people to get to the front and onto the tunnel to the plane. "I need to see your ticket and there is a no pushing policy."

"Will this do?" Sherlock snapped at her and showed her the ID and she pursed her lips.

"I'll need to consult my manager," she told Sherlock who rolled his eyes as people behind him yelled at him in frustration.

"You do that," Sherlock spoke and she grabbed the phone from the wall but by that time it was too late and Sherlock had run off down the tunnel, moving past infuriatingly slow passengers before an air stewardess greeted him at the door to the plane.

"Welcome to-"

"-I'm not stopping," Sherlock told her and barged into the plane, walking up the steps where he knew first class would be.

He wandered down the aisles, looking around and not taking care in where he was going until he bumped into a middle height blonde woman.

"Sherlock!" she snapped at him and he sighed once when he saw her and Alison sat down in the seat next to the window.

"Dad?"

"You need to get off the plane," he told them both as others looked at him.

"Why?" Natalie wondered.

"There's a bomb," he muttered and then looked around before standing on Natalie's vacant seat with Alison sat beside him.

"If everyone would like to vacate the plane then that would be much appreciated!" he called out to the passengers.

"Why would we want to?" a balding business man asked him.

"There's a bomb on the plane," he replied and mass hysteria broke out as people ran for the exits and the stewardesses informed them it would all be fine.

"How do you know?" Natalie asked, grabbing her coat and bag regardless as Sherlock grabbed onto Alison's hand and led her down the passageway with Natalie in tow.

"It's Moriarty, isn't it?" Alison checked and Sherlock nodded as they moved from the plane and back into the tunnel. Sherlock led them back into the departure lounge, looking out the glass and deducing where the best place to hide a bomb would be, his hands resting on his cheeks as he looked at the plane.

"No," he whispered and Alison stood close to him as Natalie apologised to a passenger for Sherlock who he had pushed in front of.

"What is it?" Alison asked as the man stood in the high visibility jacket looked at the mass hysteria.

"He's wearing a bomb jacket," Sherlock whispered to his daughter. "Someone is telling him what to do..."

"He's going to blow the plane up, isn't he?" she checked but before Sherlock had time to answer or do anything there was a loud bang. The noise shook the entire terminal and Sherlock grabbed Alison around her waist, turning her away from the explosion as he pushed her head into his chest and he bowed his head, feeling glass tumble off his coat from the shattering of the window. Everyone began to scream as Sherlock turned his head and looked down onto the wrecked plane and the spread of flames, his breathing shallow as he did so. Moriarty had planned this. That he was sure of.

...

"This is ridiculous," Natalie complained after an hour of evacuation from the terminal. The three of them wondered along the pavement, waiting for a cab as they did so and Sherlock was steaming ahead, his brain in overload as he thought of what he had just seen. "Why would someone do this? All those people who didn't get off the flight...it's horrible."

"Yes," Sherlock agreed lightly as he stood still. Natalie stood beside him and Alison lingered behind the pair of them. "We'll have to wait here for a cab. None are going into the terminal so it could be a bit of a fight."

"I lived in New York for a bit," Natalie shrugged. "What I don't know about not winning the right for a cab no one knows."

"I didn't know you lived in New York," Sherlock told her and Natalie's eyes went wide.

"Did you not deduce it about me at university?" she wondered.

"I think our encounter was a bit too brief and drunken for me to deduce that," Sherlock spoke to her and Alison rolled her eyes.

"Shut up," she muttered and a bright red light hit Sherlock's eye as he looked at his daughter. He looked up quickly, seeing what was happening. But Natalie was already onto it. She noted the red dot on the back of her daughter and completed the most selfless act known to man. Natalie grasped onto her daughter's shoulder, swapping places with her as the sniper from the top of the car park building shot. Alison froze as she was moved and Sherlock's eyes went wide at what was happening as Natalie seemed to have all the breath knocked out from her. The red dot disappeared and Sherlock watched as the man disappeared from the roof and Alison held onto her mother's elbows as the blonde became too heavy and fell to the floor.

"Mum," Alison whispered, falling to the floor with bloodied hands as her mother looked at her and reached for Alison's hand. The commotion around the three of them became heavy as an ambulance was called and Sherlock knelt next to Alison, looking down onto Natalie.

"Mum...hold on, okay?" Alison checked; tears forming in her eyes as Natalie lifted their hands, stroking her daughter's cheek with the back of hers.

"Allie," she muttered, "you know...you have to tell Geoff...tell him I love him, okay?"

"No," Alison shook her head stubbornly. "You're not going anywhere...you're not."

"Tell him, Alison," she demanded weakly. "And tell the twins too."

"Mum," Alison sobbed lightly and Natalie smiled weakly up at her.

"You look after our daughter, Sherlock," she spoke and the detective nodded once, the pool of blood becoming larger as Natalie paled deeply.

"I love you, Allie...I love you so much."

"I love you too mum," Alison assured her. "I love you."

Natalie managed to smile one last time at her daughter before her breathing became too hard for her to handle and her eyes drooped and finally shut.

...

"It's okay," Sherlock promised his sobbing daughter as he led her back into 221 Baker Street, his arm wrapped around her waist as she was unable to stop crying. Sherlock kicked the black door shut as Mrs Hudson came out from her own flat, her tea towel in her hand as she saw Sherlock climb up the stairs supporting Alison.

"What is going on?" she asked and Sherlock looked down at her.

"Natalie," he said simply in a whisper. "She's gone."

Mrs Hudson heard Alison's weeping and she knew what Sherlock meant as she bowed her head, her eyes shutting as Sherlock guided Alison up the stairs where John was stood in the doorway, an eyebrow raised as Sherlock walked into the living room. He sat down onto the sofa as he continued to hold onto Alison's hand and she fell down finally, settling herself onto Sherlock's lap as she bunched her hands into fists and clung onto his coat, her head resting just below his shoulder.

"What happened?" John managed to ask as Sherlock kept a straight face and Alison continued to cry.

"Natalie is dead."

...

Sherlock didn't protest against his daughter sitting on his knee as he knew that she was a scared and frightened teenager. He did however become uncomfortable but said nothing about it. It was around ten at night when he heard her sobs die down and he knew she had cried herself to sleep. John had excused himself from the flat, thinking it better to leave the two of them that evening. And so Sherlock managed to rest Alison onto the sofa without disturbing her and he did the awkward task of phoning Natalie's husband to tell him what had happened. Geoff had acted strong and tough but his cracking voice eventually gave him away as Sherlock hung up and looked back at Alison before he settled himself into his armchair, thinking about what to do now.

...

A/N: Thank you to anyone reading and all those who left me reviews! Please let me know what you think! Thank you!


	14. Chapter 14

"What time is it?" Alison muttered as she woke up groggily on the cold and wet morning. Sherlock hadn't moved from his chair as he stared at his daughter who was still laid on the sofa, her eyes shut as she spoke.

"It is four in the morning," Sherlock spoke back to her, his voice low and deep as he did so. "How are you feeling?"

"Crap," she replied simply. "I don't even know what to do."

"The solution is quite simple, Alison," he promised her. "Your mother wouldn't want you to mope around the house mourning her for too long."

"Well what am I supposed to do apart from that?" Alison spoke quietly. "She was my mother...and she's gone when it was supposed to be me. If he had shot at me then this wouldn't have-"

"-Be quiet," Sherlock demanded her as Alison sat up, her blonde hair completely tousled around her face whilst Sherlock uncrossed his legs, leaning forwards with his hands clasped together. "I can't even think about the other result of yesterday."

"But this is my fault," Alison replied. "He wants me dead...he's going to get his way-"

"-Not if I have anything to say about it," Sherlock replied strictly and stood up with haste. "I phoned Geoff yesterday evening and he is coming on a flight to London to help plan the funeral."

"Okay," Alison replied and began to cry again at the mention of the funeral as Sherlock rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands running through his hair before he saw Alison stand up, wiping away her tears and grabbing her jacket.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked her and she looked at him with determination. "It is four in the morning."

"He wants me, doesn't he? He killed my mum...he can have what he wants."

"Revenge is a dish best served cold," Sherlock replied and blocked her way to the door as she stood in front of him.

"Well I don't care how it is best served...I want to find this bastard and kill him!"

"I know you do," Sherlock assured her. "But going out now will get you killed, Alison. It wouldn't bring your mother back."

"Nothing is bringing her back," Alison snapped.

"And you getting yourself killed definitely wouldn't!" Sherlock roared out at her. "Do you think your mother died for you to go and get yourself killed? Do you think she would want that? Do you think I want that?"

"I don't know what else to do," Alison spoke loudly.

"You allow me to deal with it," Sherlock spoke lowly, his hand resting onto her shoulder lightly. "You stay with me, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered. "I'll not do anything rash."

"Good," Sherlock replied with a stern nod.

...

"So the phone showed a picture of trainers?" Alison asked that afternoon once Sherlock had been given the mobile phone from Lestrade and he knew the photo was in the basement flat. He had told Alison of his case in order for him to occupy her mind from the death of her mother. He could tell it wasn't working to its full extent but it was a start and he was trying.

"In the basement flat," Sherlock informed her as Lestrade came back with Mrs Hudson and the keys to the flat. The old woman unlocked it, speaking as she did so;

"I can't sell this place," she complained. "I think it is because it is a basement...oh...Sherlock...what happened last night-"

"-Yes, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock nodded quickly and walked into the flat as Alison smiled at the woman once and followed her father and then Lestrade and John moved behind them down the steps.

"I wouldn't get too close to them," Alison told her father and he raised a brow at her.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"It could be a bomb," Alison muttered and Lestrade nodded quickly.

"She could be right," he pointed out.

"And the fact a teenager pointed this fact out before a Detective Inspector is quite worrying," Sherlock muttered under his breath, dropping to his knees and examining the shoes before his eyes went wide as he thought about what he had just seen and he stood up silently before muttering;

"Carl Powers."

...

"Carl Powers was a schoolboy who drowned in a swimming pool...the police didn't think anything of it."

"But you did?" John checked and Sherlock nodded.

"They found everything apart from his shoes," he clicked his fingers as they sat in the cab and Alison sat in between the pair of them.

"So why have they just turned up now?" she asked her father and he shrugged once, pulling out his BlackBerry as he did so.

"I have no idea."

...

"Oh!" Molly gasped when she walked into the lab that day and saw Sherlock sat at his stool as John wandered around and Alison remained quiet on the stool opposite her father's, her hands playing with some empty bottle as she did so.

"I didn't know you were in here," she commented and looked around the room as Sherlock looked at her.

"I'm working," he simply spoke and she nodded quickly, checking her clipboard whilst Sherlock went back to his microscope.

"I can see that," she replied curtly. "Oh, Alison...I am sorry...I had to perform the autopsy on your mother...I am sorry for your loss and the way she died wasn't pleasant."

Alison hastily stood up, her stool falling to the ground as she pushed open the fire door and allowed it to slam shut behind her. Sherlock took in a deep breath, looking at Molly as she bit her bottom lip and looked to the ground, knowing she had said the wrong thing whilst Sherlock pushed his stool back and followed his daughter and John coughed quietly.

"Alison," he spoke, seeing her sat on the step of the staircase and he sat beside her. "Molly doesn't think before she speaks. We both know that."

"I know," Alison managed to smile lightly. "I just didn't need to hear that."

"I know you didn't," Sherlock agreed. "Molly didn't mean anything by it."

"It's fine," Alison nodded and she stood up again. "You should get back to working."

"Are you going to be okay?" Sherlock checked and she shrugged and began to move back up the steps whilst he remained stood still.

"Probably not."

"I am so sorry, Alison!" Molly called out as soon as the young girl entered the room again and she shook her head.

"You didn't mean to offend me, Molly," she replied. "It's fine...how is Jim?" she decided to ask and Molly blinked ferociously as she nodded quickly.

"He's okay I think. We haven't spoke for a while because he's been busy but he texts me."

"That's nice then," Alison replied and sat back on the stool she had thrown to the floor whilst John leant beside her and Molly spoke to Sherlock.

"What was that about?" John whispered into her ear.

"He was behind the killing of my mother. I don't want him to hurt Molly," Alison replied with haste so that only John could hear and he nodded at her.

"He was poisoned," Sherlock whispered. "But how?"

...

"It was via his eczema!" Sherlock yelled out as he sat at the kitchen table and Alison pottered about, tidying the kitchen up of the pots and pans to occupy her mind whilst Sherlock grabbed his laptop, writing down onto his blog what he had found out before his phone went off which saved the woman who was strapped to the bombers jacket.

"Did you save her?" Alison asked and Sherlock nodded, his hands resting onto his hips on his purple shirt and he looked at his daughter.

"I think so," he said. "If the police get to her in time then I should have."

"That's good then," Alison nodded along with Sherlock who grabbed his coat, shrugging into it and then passing his daughter her coat and she looked at him with a cocked brow.

"Why do I need this?"

"We're going out," he declared. "John! Get down here!"

...

"Here," Sherlock spoke, helping Alison out of her brown military coat as he hung it on the back of her chair and she sat down on the seat and Sherlock sat beside her and John sat opposite.

"This is nice," John said, rubbing his hands up and down. "Very comfy."

"You know the owner, don't you?" Alison checked with her father who nodded after removing his coat and looking at the menu, knowing it was time to eat.

"Of course," Sherlock forced a smile onto his face. "I have helped the majority of London in some way or another."

"Such a hero," John rolled his eyes and Sherlock cocked a brow at his friend.

"I'm going to use the bathroom," Alison said and Sherlock nodded once, looking into his menu as Alison wondered off to the ladies room which was down the hall from the kitchen. Once in there she checked her reflection, straightening out her blonde curls and her tube skirt which she wore along with the large baggy jumper. She nodded once, noticing a figure walking into the toilets which was masculine.

"This is the ladies," she told him and he nodded as she turned around.

"I'm aware," he promised her. "Mr Moriarty sends his regards."

Alison paled as what she had heard and tried to dash into a cubicle to hide from the man but she was too slow. He grabbed onto her wrist, hauling her back to him as she struggled and he grabbed her around the neck, pushing her into the glass mirror as her vision went blurry.

"He also tells me to tell you to watch out what happens. He didn't want for your mother to die...you were the main victim and he wants you to know that so he sent me to prove it," he warned her, shifting her under his weight, pushing her against the broken shards of glass as she choked.

"How I show you that you're in trouble is up to me so I shall have to have a quick think."

Before the man could do anything he felt a blunt force on the back of his head and his eyes closed as he fell to the floor and dropped Alison back to her feet as she looked at John who had his gun in his hand. He had shot him with the silencer into his head as blood came from his head and Sherlock grabbed Alison's hand, helping her move across the body.

"We need to get out of here," Sherlock said quickly. "We can use the back door. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Alison croaked, "but Moriarty is certainly after me."


	15. Chapter 15

"Sorry," John whispered again once he continued his stitching of Alison's cut on the side of her neck and she remained quiet, occasionally gasping for breath when John hit a nervous point. Sherlock remained sat on his armchair with his hands clasped together, his eyes looking at Alison as she remained looking away from him that evening. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and Sherlock stood, using it as an excuse to leave the room where his daughter was blooded up. He walked down the stairs, having an idea as to who it could be and he nodded when he opened it up as he saw the man he knew to be Geoff Mallon stood there, his eyes tired from the flight and sore from weeping over the death of his wife.

"Geoff," Sherlock greeted him and the man nodded stiffly as Sherlock allowed him to enter the room.

"Sherlock," he spoke. "How is she?"

"She's coping," Sherlock said simply. "She's better than I thought she would be...but...well..."

"I'm fine," Geoff nodded once, knowing Sherlock wondered how he was but not knowing how to phrase his question. "I'm as fine as I can be anyway."

"Okay," Sherlock stated and Geoff began to walk up the steps behind Sherlock and into the living room where he saw Alison sat with John tending to her head.

"What happened to you?" he simply spoke to her.

"I fell," she lied. "I knocked a mirror on my way down and fell onto that."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she simply spoke. She didn't hate Geoff. She thought he was an alright person once he removed his own head from his arse and learned to be civil to people. But her mother had been besotted with him. "What are you doing here? Where are the twins?"

"I left them with my mother," he coughed once, eyeing up the flat which Sherlock had moved into. "I was wondering if you knew anything...what your mother would have wanted...at her funeral," he choked out and Alison quickly shook her head.

"We never even discussed anything like that," Alison shrugged. "You do what you think is right."

"Don't you want a say?" Geoff asked in a small mutter and Alison shook her head.

"Not really," she admitted. "I don't think I could do it."

"So you want me to do it by myself?" Geoff checked and he sniffed once. "Are you sure?"

"Do you not mind doing it?" Sherlock interrupted and Geoff pursed his lips, shaking his head as he did so.

"If Alison doesn't want to do it then I would understand," he spoke quietly. "I can understand why it would be difficult for her...but...I don't even know what happened to her really...do you have any idea who shot her?"

"No," Sherlock said before Alison could say anything. "Apparently it was just a random shooting."

"I don't even know what to think," Geoff said and checked his watch as he did so. "I should be going. The boys will be wondering where I am."

"Okay," Alison said. "I'll see you later Geoff."

"I'll be in touch," he said. "I can see myself out."

"You don't want to help?" Sherlock checked once Geoff had left the building and Alison looked at her father and she shrugged.

"I don't think I would be much help," she admitted. "I'd prefer for Geoff to do it and get it right."

"It will be hard on him too," John reminded her and she sighed, looking to the floor.

"I know," she muttered. "I suppose it was selfish of me."

"No," Sherlock snapped, looking at John with narrowed eyes as he did so. "If you couldn't handle it then it is anything but selfish."

"Why did you not tell Geoff the truth?" Alison pondered whilst John tided up the mess he had made from stitching her cuts and Sherlock cocked a brow.

"If I told him about Moriarty do you think he wouldn't want revenge as much as you do?" Sherlock checked. "There is no point in putting the man in any danger. He has suffered enough I believe."

...

"What was it this time?" John asked Sherlock once the phone had gone off and it showed a car on it. John was moving about the flat whilst Alison checked the internet for what her father had told her to do about tide times for some reason.

"It was a car," Sherlock muttered. "It must be on the banks of the Thames...possibly east side..."

"What do you think it is?"

"I shall know when I call Lestrade."

...

"I told you he was trouble," Donovan hissed at John and the doctor cocked a brow whilst Sherlock examined the car on the cold day. Alison stood near John as she played on her BlackBerry, scrolling through the trivial gossip of Facebook to keep her mind entertained whilst John endured Donovan's mindless drivel.

"Well we can't all be dull and boring, can we?"

"He got her mother shot," Donovan said, her voice low so she made sure Alison couldn't hear it. "The girl now has no mother. Do you think that would have happened if she had never met him?"

"I don't think it is for us to judge," John replied sternly. "I think that what happened was a tragic accident but Sherlock was only doing his job and he wasn't the one who pulled the trigger."

"He may as well have," Donovan complained. "One day he will become bored, Dr Watson. When that day comes he will be the one who placed the body there, not us."

"Are you ready to go, John?" Sherlock snapped when he had heard Donovan talking about him and he glared at her before the trio walked away and Sherlock stopped for a moment, pausing to think as he did so, looking at the dead husband's wife and then at Alison.

"Stay here for a moment," he instructed.

"Are you crying?" she gasped when she saw a tear fall from his eyes.

"Sentiment is not the thing I am associated with," Sherlock spoke. "This is fake to get what I need."

"I shall stay here then," Alison muttered and Sherlock walked off with John to speak to the woman before coming back, wiping away the tears on his face and Alison looked at him expectantly.

"Did you find anything out?"

"Of course," he spoke. "We need to go to the car rental place. Something is certainly wrong and I have eight hours to find out what."

...

"Damian," Alison gasped when she opened the door to 221 B and the boy looked at her, a sheepish look on his face as he looked back at his ex-girlfriend.

"Allie," he said, using her nickname which made her throat choke slightly. She was glad her father was upstairs in his mind palace and unable to hear the conversation which she was about to have with Damian.

"Oh, Alison," a sudden feminine voice spoke and she saw Mrs Hudson exiting her flat, her beige coat on her body along with her handbag as she looked at the young girl and Alison nodded. "What are you doing?"

"Actually," Alison said, looking at Damian and then Mrs Hudson, "can I borrow your flat if you're going out, Mrs Hudson?"

"Why on earth would you need to do that?" she asked the young girl.

"I just need to speak with Damian," she muttered.

"The boy who-"

"-Yes," Alison cut her off. "Please...I will lock up when I'm done."

"You're not going to be getting up to anything which your father would-"

"-No," Alison interrupted again.

"Okay," Mrs Hudson said and opened her flat door once again and Alison and Damian walked past her as she spoke out again. "Just allow the door to shut and it should lock itself."

"Thanks, Mrs Hudson," Alison smiled and the elder woman pursed her lips but shut the door on the two teens whilst Alison moved into her living room, folding her arms and looking at Damian expectantly. He stood in his short black military coat along with his black gloves which held onto his car keys. His hair was a dirty blonde and cut neat and tidily and his face was cleanly shaven with his baby features.

"I heard about your mother," he said to her. "I'm sorry."

"You came all the way here to offer your condolences?" Alison checked with him. "They don't mean anything to me."

"Don't be like that, Allie," he complained. "I liked your mum. She was a good person."

"Everyone knew that but they don't show up here to tell us," Alison hissed.

"I'm sorry we had to break up but-"

"-You're not sorry," Alison shook her head. "I knew what you were doing, Damian."

"What do you mean?"

"You were cheating on me," Alison blurted out. "You were seeing someone else."

"How...how do you know?" he managed to ask her.

"My uncle told me. He said my dad made you break up with me so I didn't find out. Did you plan on telling me?"

"Allie-"

"Just answer the question," she pleaded. "I cannot be arsed with your half hearted attempt at an apology."

"It isn't half hearted. I didn't want to tell you, Alison...it was only after I dumped you when I realised what a dick I had been," he said to her.

"What was her name?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does."

"She was called Lily."

"Well I hope you two are happy together then," Alison spoke, shifting her weight onto one foot and looking through Mrs Hudson's net curtains and out onto the alley.

"I broke it off with her," Damian said. "I didn't want anything to do with her when I realised what an idiot I had been."

"You realised a bit too late, didn't you, Damian?" Alison asked smarmily. "What made you think that?"

"She wasn't you, Al," he muttered. "You don't realise what you have until it is too late."

"Well it is a shame you left it too late then," Alison replied. "I don't want another go."

"I can understand that," Damian nodded. "I just wanted you to know how sorry I am for everything that has happened. I miss not seeing you around college."

Alison remained silent for a moment, looking at the ground and then back at Damian.

"You should go," she said. "I need to go back to...well...work."

"I turned up to your restaurant the other night and they said you had quit. What are you doing Al?"

"Why do you care?"

"I still love you, Alison," Damian promised her. "I always have and I was stupid to throw it away. You can tell me what is going on."

"I can't," she promised him. "Now please go."

"Will I see you again?"

"Probably not," Alison said. "I don't want anything from you, Damian. You hurt me and that is all there is to it."

"I am sorry."

"You can keep saying it and it won't make a difference," she said quietly.

"I'm not giving up," he replied, opening the door. "I love you."

"The feeling isn't reciprocated."

Damian shook his head at her but left Mrs Hudson's apartment, rushing out the door before he saw Sherlock come into the hallway and walk into the flat where Alison was still stood.

"What did he want?" he snapped, pointing to the door Damian had vacated.

"He came to say sorry about mum," Alison said with a shrug.

"I can read you like an open book Alison," Sherlock muttered. "Please tell me that you are not thinking about dating him again."

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "Moriarty would only hurt him if we got close again."

"I was thinking more about the fact that he cheated on you," Sherlock informed her and she nodded.

"I know."


	16. Chapter 16

"Ian Monkford moved to Colombia," Sherlock informed his daughter after she had asked what the message on his blog was about. "It was an insurance scandal for him and his wife and the car rental agency helped him to do it. Yet I am sure Moriarty is behind this."

"I thought we knew that earlier?" Alison asked as her and her father sat in a cafe and John placed an order at the till. Sherlock made sure not to rest his hands on the table as he peered at the phone which was sat on the table. Alison yawned again as she rested her elbows on the red metal and dropped her chin into her hands and Sherlock looked over at John.

"Now I am sure it is him. He is playing with me. He likes puzzles," Sherlock spoke in a low voice as John returned and sat beside Alison, dropping his wallet into his coat pocket and looking at the pair of them.

"What were you two discussing?" John asked and Alison looked at her father who looked at John.

"Moriarty," he simply spoke and John nodded as a waitress walked over with their order and John blinked several times.

"That was quick," he commented.

"It was probably nearly done anyway," Sherlock said, looking down at the tea in front of him. "This place looks like it is full of grease."

"Are you sure you didn't want anything to eat?" John asked Alison who was sat with her orange juice but not drinking it.

"I'm positive," she smiled at him for a second before the phone vibrated on the table and Sherlock hastily picked it up and frowned at the message.

"What is it?" Alison asked Sherlock who shrugged.

"It could be anyone," he said and showed the pair of them the phone before John shook his head.

"Luckily for you, Mrs Hudson is a big fan," Alison told her father who cocked a brow.

"And luckily for you I have been unemployed for a while," John said and he stood up, moving over the room and switching the TV on as Sherlock watched him intently and Alison drank her drink.

"That's Connie Prince," Alison informed her father. "She did some form of TV show and as you can see she enjoyed humiliating her brother."

"So what is wrong with her?" Sherlock asked and Alison whipped her BlackBerry out of her blue coat pocket and began to type her name into a search engine with haste.

"She died due to tetanus apparently," Alison murmured. "Why is this anything important?"

"Clearly Moriarty knows tetanus wasn't the killer."

...

"He has two people bombed up," Lestrade informed Sherlock as he entered his flat and saw the consulting detective looking at his wall where he had made up a map which showed Connie Prince and all her connections whilst Sherlock paced up and down, thinking of the case as he did so.

"Two?" Sherlock checked and Lestrade nodded.

"One sounds like an old woman and the other sounds like a teenager."

"Jesus Christ," Alison muttered under her breath and Sherlock shook his head.

"He's becoming braver. He's more intense than before."

There was suddenly a loud ringing noise in the room and Sherlock looked at Lestrade who shook his head and then at Alison as she grabbed her ringing BlackBerry and checked the caller ID and she sighed.

"Damian," Sherlock grumbled as Alison answered the ringing phone.

"What do you want, Damian?" she simply asked him and she heard him sniff down the phone before standing up from the seat at the desk.

"I forgot to tell Sherlock the time limit," Damian informed her and she looked at her father and he looked back for a second, picking up on the look on her face which showed confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about the case which Sherlock is working," he spoke back, his voice faltering as he tried not to cry, looking down at the explosives strapped to his chest as he sat in the changing room of a leisure centre. "He has twelve hours to complete it."

"What the hell is this, Damian?" Alison snapped. "What is wrong?"

"It's funny, isn't it?" Damian asked her as Sherlock snatched the phone from her hand and placed it onto speakerphone. "You only begin to care about the case when someone you know could be hurt. Your love for Damian is still existent no matter how much you don't want it to be."

"That's the boy who was on the phone earlier," Lestrade informed them in a small voice, "the one who has been strapped to the explosives."

"Remember that you have twelve hours," Damian said and then the phone went blank and Alison looked at her father who remained emotionless.

"I know," he said to her. "I'll solve it."

...

"How close are you?" Alison asked when she saw her father and John walk out of the house of Connie Prince and John nodded quickly.

"I think we're pretty close," John said and Sherlock shook his head at John with haste.

"Your idea is wrong," he assured him.

"Why?"

"Because it is," Sherlock grumbled. "I saw the cat and disinfectant and they're not linked. I have an idea but I need to think it through."

"Dad!" Alison snapped at Sherlock. "You don't have that much time!"

"I am aware," he assured her. "Yet I have all the time I need."

...

"It was the housekeeper," Sherlock told Lestrade that evening as they walked through Scotland Yard and Lestrade cocked a brow, leading them into his office as he pulled out his mobile phone, beginning to issue an arrest. "His name was Raoul de Santos and he was Kenny Prince's boyfriend. He increased Connie's botox injection to kill her for how she treated him on her makeover show."

"Are you sure?" Lestrade asked.

"Positive. I posted it on my blog already."

"I'll have an arrest in the next ten minutes then," Lestrade said and Sherlock sat in his chair in the office whilst Alison remained stood, nervously tapping her foot and holding her BlackBerry, checking the screen every second for some form of message. John stood to the side and watched Sherlock as he held the phone in his hand, continuously looking at it before Lestrade walked back in and it began to ring.

"Where are you?" Sherlock asked the elderly woman who breathing deeply down the phone and she gasped.

"He was so nice," she sighed out and Sherlock shook his head.

"No," he snapped. "Just tell me where you are and don't talk about him."

"He was tall...and clever-"

"-Shut up!" Sherlock interrupted her. "Where are you?"

"He-"

But before the woman could finish there was a large booming sound from the phone which caused Sherlock to move it from his ear and look at it as the call was ended and he placed the phone onto the desk. The four of them remained silent before Alison shook her head.

"You don't think...Damian...was he with her?"

"I don't know," Sherlock whispered and Alison placed a hand over her mouth to stop her from making a noise and she looked out the window before her phone began to ring and she looked at it, hastily answering it.

"Do not describe him, Damian," she said quickly. "The man who took you just do not describe him."

"I'm in Masen Leisure Centre," he simply told Alison who nodded. "Just come and find me, Ali...please?"

"I will," she promised him. "I promise you."

...

"What is taking them so long?" Alison complained as she stood behind the rope which cordoned off the leisure centre. Sherlock had been given then dutiful take of informing Damian's parents as to what had happened and had endured their shrieks of worry. It seemed they were both abroad on business and had left the seventeen year old boy to fend for himself whilst they were away. Sherlock stood by his daughter as she nervously looked around and he took in her reactions.

"Dear God," he complained, "you still love him."

"I don't," she replied quickly.

"Your body language tells me different," he replied to which she shook her head.

"Maybe," she replied before she saw Lestrade and he nodded.

"The paramedics are seeing to him in the changing rooms," he informed them. "He's asking for Alison."

"Go," Sherlock urged her. "I can see you're itching to be with him even though you should be itching to run away from him considering what he did to you."

"I'll be back soon," Alison grumbled as Sherlock struck up conversation with John.

Alison followed Lestrade through the leisure centre and into the changing rooms where she saw Damian sat on the wooden bench in the middle of the changing area, a blanket being placed around him as he looked around. Alison sat beside him and Damian looked at her before he slowly moved forwards, catching her off guard as he covered her mouth with his own before he pulled back and she said nothing to him.

"I said if I didn't die then I would do that," he explained. "Sorry."

Alison looked at him for a second, seeing that he was fragile and alone and she felt something well up inside of her as people fussed around them, making sure no innocent bystanders were hurt or alarmed. She boldly made her move again, kissing Damian as fast as she could before she heard a cough and pulled away.

"Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?" Lestrade asked the teenage boy. "Apparently you don't need hospital care and I hear your parents are away but are coming back by tomorrow."

"He can stay with me," Alison declared, wondering what Sherlock would say.

...

"He can have the sofa," Sherlock informed Alison as Damian showered and John slept in the armchair.

"He can have my bed," she told her father who shook his head.

"Out of the question," he said. "You are not sleeping in the same room as him."

"We dated for a while dad," she replied in a mutter. "Sleeping in the same bed is nothing to bother me about."

"Well it bothers me," Sherlock replied.

"It's irrelevant," Alison spoke clearly. "I'm going to bed now and I shall see you in the morning."

"Hm," Sherlock grunted. "Tell him that if he wants a scare then he can open the freezer."

...

"How are you feeling?" Alison asked when she saw Damian enter her room in his joggers and top that he had managed to get John to fetch from his house and he nodded once.

"Well it's not every day that you have a bomb strapped to you, is it?"

"I suppose not," Alison agreed. "But you're okay now, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'm good."

"Alright then," she whispered. "You don't mind sharing the bed do you? It's either this or the sofa."

"Bed's fine," he assured her and she gulped once, pushing back the covers to her single bed and climbing into them as Damian followed suit. Alison faced the wall of her room whilst Damian faced her back, his breathing on her neck.

"About what happened earlier," he spoke, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's fine," Alison assured him. "I didn't mind."

"What I said before is true, Alison," he muttered. "I do still love you."

"I know."

"I just want you to feel the same."

"I think it is going to take a while before you can earn my trust."

"I will do whatever it takes."

"I know."

"Just tell me what you want, Allie..."

"For now, you just need to be quiet," she said and lay on her back as Damian sighed once, nodding as he did so.

"I can do that."

"This probably defies all the basis of logic," Alison complained as she moved the upper half of her body and kissed Damian hastily, he met her halfway, allowing her head to lie back down on her pillow before he forced her mouth open with his tongue, his hand moving onto the side of her leg.

...

Sherlock remained in the hallway for a second, hearing no sound coming from his daughter's room as he slowly moved into his own bedroom. He didn't want Damian worming his way back into his daughter's life. He wanted the boy gone. Sherlock stood still for a second as the silence continued and he guessed what they were doing before he coughed once and shouted out.

"John! Take the human arm from the oven! It should be cooked now."

Sherlock opened the door to his room, hearing his daughter apologise to Damian for what he had just heard and Sherlock smirked once as he knew his job was complete.

...

A/N: Thank you to everyone reading and to anyone who has reviewed! Let me know what you think!


	17. Chapter 17

Alison awoke at eleven a.m. the next morning in an utter daze, wondering what had happened the previous night as she felt a weight over her waist only to turn her head and see Damian laid there. She knew that her father had intentionally called out about the arm to gain her attention but after that things had begun to heat up. The previous night Alison didn't regret what had happened. She was happy to have Damian by her side and safe after the events of the day. But that morning she knew she had been naive. Sex with the cheating ex-boyfriend was never something which felt good.

...

"I didn't hear you get up," Damian informed Alison as he saw her moving about her room, picking up clothes which were on the floor and then placing them onto the chair at her desk. She was basically doing anything to avoid the topic of last night.

"You should be going," she commented. "Your parents should be home by now."

"Alison," Damian spoke, his voice low and husky due to the morning and he sat up and she looked at him as he rested his head against her metal headboard. "What happened last night-"

"-It was a mistake," she interrupted him. "It should never have happened and we both know that."

"I don't think it was a mistake," he told her.

"Well you weren't the one cheated on so you wouldn't, would you?" Alison let out a low sarcastic laugh as Damian shook his head.

"How many times do I need to apologise for that?" he snapped at her. "I thought last night would have helped."

"You think that by having sex that means you're sorry?" she hissed, looking at him finally. "You seriously think that?"

"I didn't hear you complaining last night," Damian replied quickly. "Why do you have to make everything complicated?"

"I'm not," she shook her head. "You did that by going off with someone else."

"And I said it was a mistake," Damian finally moved from the bed, grabbing onto his clothes and sliding into them whilst Alison folded hers up with brute force.

"It's too late, Damian," Alison replied. "I was scared yesterday and last night was me...it was me being stupid."

"You said we could have another go last night," Damian spoke. "You said you knew it would take a lot for me to make it up to you."

"I don't know if I want you to bother, Damian," she sighed. "I don't want to risk being hurt again by you...not now...not when I've just lost my mother and my life is falling to bits."

"I wouldn't hurt you. I would help!"

"You didn't mean to hurt me last time though, did you?" Alison replied; slamming the shirt she was folding onto the floor before her hands rested onto her cheeks. "You didn't mean to do it but you did! What does your word truly mean?"

"You know something, Alison?" Damian asked her, grabbing onto the bag he had bought and throwing it onto his shoulder. "You're going to end up more like him if you keep this up."

"Like who?"

"Your father," Damian spoke simply. "You're going to be cold and emotionless if you don't let people in."

"Don't you dare!" Alison roared at him. "I let people in who I can trust and I can't trust you, Damian! I can't do this at the moment."

"I don't know why I bother," Damian shook his head. "You've decided you don't want anything from me at the moment-"

"-Glad you understand-"

"-Yet last night you couldn't wait to open your legs!"

"I told you it was a mistake!" Alison spoke.

"It's either that or you're easy," Damian shrugged and Alison remained stood still and she didn't reply to him as Damian realised what he had just said and he shook his head.

"I didn't-"

"-You meant it," she replied. "Otherwise you wouldn't have said it. Now get out."

"Al-"

"-Out!" she roared. "Just get out of my flat!"

...

"Good morning, Damian..." John trailed off as he walked down the stairs and saw the teenager running down to the door as John watched him and then he slammed the door. John cocked a brow in the air before he saw Sherlock sat in the living room, his hand glued to his ear which held his mobile phone before he hung up, grabbing his coat.

"We have a case."

"Did you just see-"

"-Yes."

"And why was he in such a rush?" John asked Sherlock who narrowed his eyes, wondering if the doctor was actually concerned or intrigued.

"He had an argument with Alison," Sherlock simply spoke. "Their activities last night were disagreed upon."

"Activities?"

"Do I have to spell it out, John?" Sherlock asked, looking down the hall to his daughter's room and heard the slamming of wardrobes before he pulled his phone out again and began to text Mycroft.

"Oh," John said. "You mean the two of them were-"

"-This is my daughter we're discussing, John," Sherlock hissed as Mycroft responded to his text. "Now stop indulging in gossip and come with me. We have a case to solve."

...

"How long have you been here?" Alison asked when she saw her uncle sat in her father's armchair and he checked his watch.

"Fifty three minutes and six seconds and counting," Mycroft told her. "Your father managed to pull my arm and make me babysit. I thought you were too old for a babysitter but I'm wrong apparently."

"Well he's gone off on a case then, hasn't he?" Alison checked and Mycroft nodded.

"I think he may have gone on my case with some hope," he sighed. "Although according to his blog he has been up to many other things."

"I am guessing you know about Moriarty?"

"Of course," Mycroft nodded. "Your father's work seems to be booming ever since he gained himself a little pet."

Alison sat down in the armchair opposite her uncle, pulling her hair back into a bobble and placing her legs underneath her, adjusting the oversized sweater she wore over her leggings. Mycroft observed her and his mouth dropped open slightly.

"You're my niece and I did expect better than this, Alison," he told her and she looked at him with wide eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact you slept with your ex-boyfriend last night."

"How did you even know?"

"It isn't difficult to figure out, Alison," he condemned her.

"Is there nothing secret in this family?" Alison complained and Mycroft managed a small smirk.

"Not when our IQ's and observation skills are above the average," he informed her. "Now why did you do it?"

"I don't know," Alison shrugged as Mycroft's phone began to ring and he looked at the caller ID, rolling his eyes and moving off from the room, taking the call and giving Alison a moment of peace of quiet before he re-entered the room.

"It would seem we are needed at my offices."

"We?"

"Your father would hardly allow me to leave you here alone," Mycroft spoke, grabbing his umbrella. "Now come along, Alison."

"Why do you carry that thing?" she managed to ask him. "It isn't even raining."

...

"No, no, no!" Sherlock roared as he watched the TV and Alison heard him from down the hallway as she held onto her BlackBerry and breathed in so he didn't hear her. "Look at the turn up's on his jeans! Of course he isn't the father!"

So he had discovered daytime TV repeats. Alison moved through the kitchen slowly and then out to the steps of 221 and she moved them, slowly shutting the door behind her. Sherlock had solved the case of the fake pointing in record time and he had even managed to solve Mycroft's case about the missing missile plans and he had assured them Mycroft had the memory stick with the plans on them and he didn't think there would be anything to worry about. Alison saw the car sat across the road and she sighed once as she walked over to it, knocking on the driver's side window.

"What did you have that you wanted to give me back?" she snapped at Damian and he looked at her, sighing as he saw her.

"It's in my car," he told her. "You may as well come in. You must be freezing."

Alison bent over, folding her arms with her BlackBerry in her hand. Damian had his hands rested against his steering wheel as he looked out the window of his ten year old Fiat Punto. Alison rolled her eyes.

"Just give me it now." She demanded.

"Just get in for one moment, Alison."

"Jesus Christ," she complained but did as he had asked her, sitting down in the passenger side as he rolled his windows up.

"Now what is it?" she snapped.

"I'm sorry," he simply told her and she saw the door lock and she turned back to look at him, not feeling the needle stab into her thigh and causing a small hole in her legging. She tried to raise her hands to hit him but she felt her body become weak as Damian held onto her wrists and her body weight fell against his as he rested his forehead against hers.

"He has my parents, Alison," he whispered, crying as he did so. "He said he would kill them if I didn't do this...please believe me, Alison...I love you so much..."

"No," she managed to croak out as he let go of her wrists and pressed a hand to her cheek, kissing her once again and then burying his head at the side of her neck, his tears moving down her skin.

"I'm sorry, baby," he assured her. "I have no choice..."

...

Sherlock grabbed John's gun for good measure before he stood up and wrote his plans onto his blog. Found. The Bruce-Parington plans. Please collect. The Pool. Midnight. He stood up and checked that John had gone through the window before he moved off to Alison's room, opening the door only to find that she wasn't in his room. Sherlock knocked on the bathroom door but there was no reply. And then he felt himself fill with worry.

...

"You did well," Moriarty complimented Damian as he carried Alison in his arms. Her limp form still unconscious due to the drug and Moriarty looked at her, a small smile on his face. "She always believed I was Moriarty. Now they will all know tonight, won't they, John?"

Damian looked to the side of the changing room where John was stood, looking through the small wet corridor which lead to the pool. John pursed his lips, gritting his teeth together as he saw Damian rest Alison onto a bench.

"He will hurt you for doing that to her," John promised him, nodding at Alison as one of the henchmen began to get to work on placing the bomb onto John in his coat and wiring him up to be Moriarty's puppet.

"And what about Alison?" Damian asked. "And my family?"

"Your family will be fine. I cannot say as much about this one," Jim spoke, looking onto her as he did so.

"Just..." Damian began but the raise of Moriarty's brow made him stop.

"Just what?" he asked the boy. "Don't hurt her because I do truly love her? I don't think you have much say in this, Mr Matthew's. But you may now leave."

"What?"

"I thought it was a clear instruction," Moriarty snapped. "Now get out of here before I make sure your family never see the light of day again."

And what other choice did Damian have but to leave?

...

"What is this John?" Sherlock asked; his face paler than normal as he looked at his friend by the side of the pool in the large coat which had explosives strapped to it.

"I thought you'd have figured it out by now, Sherlock," John spoke to the detective. "What with you being the great consulting detective."

"Of course," a new booming voice entered the room and Sherlock turned his attention to the double blue doors at the deep end of the pool where he saw a man walk in, "I had hoped you would have stopped getting in my way."

"I'm always a nuisance," Sherlock replied and then he saw what the man had in his grasp and he remained quiet as Moriarty looked down at Alison.

"He is," he whispered to her, "isn't he?"

"And how did you get here?" Sherlock asked his daughter.

"Her ex-boyfriend was certainly easy to manipulate," Moriarty replied and Alison closed her eyes, looking as though she was about to cry at a moment's notice as she did so and swallowed hard.

Sherlock held the gun pointed at Moriarty as he stood next to the pool edge with Alison in his grip.

"You could have had me ages ago, Sherlock," he told the consulting detective. "I never said I was Moriarty when I saw you at the restaurant or when I drove your daughter home but I thought you both would have pounced earlier than this."

"And what evidence would there have been?"

"You could have fabricated some," Jim shrugged. "But you like the chase, don't you?"

"I would much prefer to see you dead," Sherlock spoke.

"Try it and you could shoot your own daughter. I dislike getting my hands dirty but to hold onto this little treasure is an exception," Jim chuckled, looking down at Alison as she choked a little. "There is also the rifle which is aimed at your little pet so I wouldn't even dare shoot me. They both mean too much to you anyway. And I've shown you what I do in the world Sherlock...you and I are similar."

"Jim will fix it," Sherlock managed to say through gritted teeth as Jim moved to the corner of the pool, dragging Alison with him. "You're a consulting criminal."

"No one ever gets to me," Jim decided.

"I did," Sherlock deduced; loading the gun as Jim moved closer.

"You've come the closest, but now you are in my way which is anything but a compliment. Luckily I know how to sort this problem out...I have loved this little game we have had going on, Sherlock...I did anything to make you come out and play."

"People have died because of this," Sherlock spoke emotionless.

"That is what people do!" Jim roared suddenly and Alison jumped back in his grasp.

"I will stop this," Sherlock informed him. "Make no mistake about that."

"No you won't," Jim shrugged.

"Just take this," Sherlock said, handing out the memory stick as he did so and Moriarty looked at Alison as a red dot became trained on her.

"Go and get that from daddy," he demanded and the blonde walked forward, the dot still trained on her as she took the memory stick from Sherlock's grasp and he looked down at her as she looked to the floor and his fingers gently wrapped around her wrist as he passed it over, assuring her slightly.

"Thank you," Moriarty said and he took the memory stick from Alison and looked at it before chuckling and throwing it into the pool.

"I could have got these anytime I wanted to...they're so dull."

"So what is going to happen if I don't leave you alone?" Sherlock drawled. "You will have me killed?"

"Kill you?" Jim frowned as his hand wrapped around Alison's waist. "That is awfully dull, isn't it? No, don't be boring. I'm going to kill you one day but if you don't step messing...then I'll burn you, Sherlock...I'll burn a heart out of you."

"Apparently I don't have one," Sherlock spoke back and Jim looked at Alison and then at John.

"But we both know that's not true, don't we?" he checked and looked at Alison and John as he did so. "But we do have an issue now, Sherlock...because if you don't have a heart then you won't mind this happening, will you?"

Sherlock remained stood in his spot, looking at Moriarty as he backed away down the side of the pool with Alison and Sherlock watched him as he grabbed onto a piece of rope and Sherlock began to move forward but Jim held his hand up to stop him.

"Move any further and I blow your head off," he assured him and Sherlock felt the blinding red dot in his eye as did John. "Then you will be no use to her when she's gone, will you?"

"No!" Alison yelled and began to fight Jim before she heard her father yell at her.

"Alison, stay still!" he demanded.

"Daddy is right," Jim chuckled, seeing all the dots move over her body and she froze as he managed to tie her wrists and ankles, dragging her to the side of the pool.

"I am imaging it is hard to swim like this, don't you think so, Sherlock?" Moriarty asked and without a given warning, he pushed Alison forward. The young girl fell into the deep end of the pool, sinking to the bottom and trying to push up from the water but failing to do so as she did. "All that struggling isn't going to end well, is it?"

"Tell your rifles to call this off," Sherlock demanded from him.

"Ah," Jim spoke, looking down into the pool where Alison was still struggling. "She can't swim, can she?"

"This is ridiculous!" John suddenly roared.

"And what is to stop me from shooting you right now?" Sherlock snapped, his eyes looking to the side as he saw Alison in the water and wished the rifles would move from him so he could save her. But he knew that if he moved he was dead as well as she was.

"You could cherish the look of surprise on my face," Jim chuckled, his features showing that element of emotion. "And you wouldn't cherish it for too long, would you?"

"So what now?" Sherlock asked and Moriarty looked into the water where Alison was beginning to struggle to move anymore, her efforts becoming weak as he mouth opened and shut and her eyes began to close, her whole body becoming tired and unable to move as she fell to the pool floor.

"I suppose you can try to resurrect your daughter as I must really be going," he yawned lightly and began to walk out of where John had come in and Sherlock watched him go, his gun still trained on him as the rifles were still showing the red dot.

"I will catch you later," Sherlock decided.

"No you won't," he spoke and clicked his fingers and there was no longer the prospect of being shot at. Sherlock instantly dropped the gun, diving into the clear pool and moving underwater, his body shaking as he moved towards Alison and John ridded himself of the explosive coat. Sherlock looked around the pool, moving his arms out and grabbing onto Alison under her elbows as he did so and holding her up as he kicked to get to the surface of the water. John looked at the pool, his arms holding out as Sherlock managed to get Alison to the side and John grabbed her under her arms, pulling her out and depositing her on the side whilst he set about checking her pulse and Sherlock dragged his soaked body from the water, kneeling beside his daughter.

"She has a pulse but it is faint," John declared.

"What...is she..." Sherlock stammered, not knowing what to ask as he created a puddle on the floor.

"She's going to make it," John declared and began pushing against her chest and then pinching her nose, pressing his open mouth against hers and then going back to pressing onto her chest.

"Alison," Sherlock whispered. "Come on, Alison."

"Sorry boys!" a sudden voice yelled and Sherlock looked up as Moriarty emerged once again. The detective scrambled for his gun, grabbing it and then standing up with haste as he did so. "I am so unpredictable!"

John continued working on Alison as Sherlock aimed the gun once again.

"I can't allow you to continue," he informed them. "You just can't go on."

Sherlock remained looking at Jim, the two of them narrowing their eyes at each other as Sherlock pointed the gun at the explosive coat and Jim smirked.

"You won't shoot that. That would kill all of you...even your precious daughter..."

"I don't think you should test me," Sherlock spoke and then a ringtone began to blurt out and Jim shut his eyes, shaking his head as he did so and then answering his phone, beginning his conversation and promising that he would skin someone. Sherlock looked back at John as he tried to revive Alison and Moriarty told the caller to wait.

"Sorry," he said. "It is the wrong day for you two to die."

"Better offer?" he asked and Moriarty smirked, leaving the pool as Sherlock dropped to his knees again.

"What the hell just happened?" John asked and Sherlock shook his head.

"He got a better offer," Sherlock spoke. "Is she going to be okay?"

"She's nearly there," John said. "She just needs to cough up the water..."

"Alison," Sherlock whispered, "just wake up."

As soon as he had spoken he saw his daughter cough suddenly, water falling from her mouth as her body moved up and down and she shook and Sherlock smiled once lightly, his arms helping her to sit up as he did so and she leant against his side.

"She's okay," John said with a sigh. "She's fine..."

...

A/N: Thank you to Whisper and PresidentTheAwesome for reviewing last chapter! Let me know what you think!


	18. Chapter 18

Two months later

"You have certainly made an impression," Alison informed her father when she returned home that evening and he looked at her with a raised brow and he wondered what she was speaking about as he poured more chemicals into a container at the kitchen table.

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock asked his daughter and she rested a paper down on the table in front of him and he looked at the headline.

"I've already seen that one," he drawled, "John was disturbed because it kept calling him a bachelor."

"What does that even mean?" John spoke up, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen as Alison shook her head and managed a small smile at the two of them.

"It mentions Damian too, does it not?" Sherlock asked and Alison shrugged lightly.

"I suppose so," she said. "You know where he is, don't you?"

"Yes," Sherlock told her. "He's migrated with his family with the aid of Mycroft but I am not telling you where or when."

"I don't want to go and find him," Alison replied. "I just want to tell him that I understood."

"I didn't understand," Sherlock hissed, looking into his microscope as he did so.

"You wouldn't," Alison replied in a small voice. "The girls at work keep going on about Sherlock Holmes all the time too..." she changed the topic and Sherlock frowned.

"Why?" he asked her and she shrugged, flicking the kettle on whilst Sherlock slammed some more chemicals onto the table and John cringed at the sound.

"Well now that they know you're my father they want me to set you up with them. Apparently you're good looking," Alison rolled her eyes. "You're famous and have been on the front page of every newspaper ever since John set up that ridiculous blog."

"It is not ridiculous!" John snapped at her. "People love it."

"It is attracting too much attention," Alison informed John.

"This is his living!" John pointed out and Sherlock rolled his eyes again.

"I was making a living before your blog came along," Sherlock told him. "I can certainly make a living without it."

"Shut up," John finally spoke. "Are you still not finding any college to take you, Alison?"

"No," Alison replied. "Nowhere wants a girl who was kicked out of college and especially with it being halfway through term time and so I need to wait until next year and redo a year...until then waitressing at a coffee shop should suffice."

"Dull," Sherlock muttered.

"It is a job, dad," Alison complained, pouring the hot water from the kettle into a cup and stirring coffee granules into it. "I need something so I don't go mad."

...

"You could put some clothes on," Alison complained when she walked back into the flat that morning after doing the coffee rush at the coffee house she worked at. She had been there since four in the morning cleaning the machines and getting ready for the working population to order coffee. Sherlock was sat in a long white sheet with his computer held in his lap and he was speaking to John on the webcam whilst Alison noted a fat man sat in the armchair she occupied.

"I didn't think you would be back," Sherlock told Alison and she looked at the man.

"Who is this?" she asked, looking at the man who was clearly in shock over something.

"It doesn't matter," Sherlock replied and Alison rolled her eyes.

"I'm going out again...I should do the shopping or Mrs Hudson will moan again," Alison said, wanting to leave the situation she found herself in.

"Yes, okay, if you must," Sherlock spoke, clearly more intrigued by John as Alison picked up her bag again and left the flat. She mused over two men she saw walking down the road as they climbed from a posh car but she didn't make anything of it as she walked. Alison focused on her thoughts before she noted a car pulling alongside her and the window rolled down and she sighed as she saw her uncle sat in the backseat.

"I understand you have a request which Sherlock hasn't seen to," he told her.

"What request would this be?" Alison wondered as the car stopped and Mycroft opened the door, sliding along the seat as Alison sat beside him and he looked at her.

"Still working at the coffee shop then?" he checked.

"Yes," she said. "So what is this request?"

"Sherlock won't tell you where Damian is, will he?"

"No," Alison said. "Will you?"

"No," Mycroft told her, "but I shall pass along a message if you so wish."

"You would do that?" Alison checked with her uncle and he nodded at her.

"It will give you some peace if I do, won't it?" he checked with her and she smiled lightly once again.

"Thank you," she whispered and Mycroft nodded again, playing on his phone as he did so and Alison looked out the window as the car continued to drive on. "Why have you not kicked me out yet?"

"We're going somewhere," Mycroft muttered. "Your father will be joining us there too."

"So where are we going?"

"Buckingham Palace."


	19. Chapter 19

"So why am I at Buckingham Palace?" Alison asked her uncle as he led her through corridors as if he was the Queen himself at home. Alison looked around in awe, unable to believe she was in the heart of England and she was only wearing her waitressing uniform. She must have looked a mess and in no fit state to see the Queen. Oh God, what if she was here to see the Queen? What would the Queen want with her?

"I shall tell you momentarily. Just go down the corridor and turn left, you shall find your father in that room I believe. I shall be there as soon as I can."

Alison did as her uncle had asked and walked down the plush red corridor, looking at the portraits on the wall with her mouth slightly hung open and she opened the large white door, moving into the room, looking all around her as she did so before she noted the two figures on the sofa and she shook her head.

"You're in Buckingham Palace and yet you don't put your clothes on?" she hissed at her father as he was still wrapped up in his sheet and he shrugged at his daughter.

"You come to Buckingham Palace in your skimpy skirt and your boring coffee smelling polo-shirt?" he hissed back at her and she rolled her eyes at her father, remaining stood up and looking around the room whilst John sat still, his hands in his lap as he did so.

"So why are we here?" Alison wondered aloud. "You don't think the Queen wants to see us, do you?"

"Apparently so," Sherlock said and John and he began to snigger as they saw Mycroft enter the room and the man working for the Government took in a deep breath.

"Can you two act for grown-ups for once?" he snapped at John and Sherlock. "We are in the heart of England."

"He forgets his pants and I blog about it," John spoke. "I wouldn't hold out too much hope if I were you."

"Sherlock," Mycroft drawled his little brother's name, "you are sitting where the Royal Family sit. Put your clothes on."

"Tell me," Sherlock spoke back, playing with his sheet as he did so, "who is my client and I may consider doing as you ask."

"Dad," Alison pleaded, "just put your clothes on and stop being immature."

"Your daughter is correct, Sherlock."

"Who is my client?" Sherlock simply asked as another man walked into the room.

"Anonymous," the voice said and held his hand out to Sherlock who took it with hesitance as he and Mycroft stood next to other. "And the client is to stay that way."

"I don't deal with anonymous clients," Sherlock snapped and he stood up. "You shall tell me the name or I shall not take the case."

"I am afraid the name is something which is confidential," the man said.

"Then I bid you good day," Sherlock nodded and began to walk off before Mycroft sighed, standing on the end of his sheet and causing it to unravel whilst Alison closed her eyes and looked away, blinking to clear the image from her head.

"You are being appointed by the Royal Family," Mycroft spoke harshly. "You are in Buckingham Palace. Now, Sherlock Holmes, put your clothes on."

"Get off my sheet," Sherlock replied dangerously low. "Tell me who my client is!"

...

"Oh my God," Alison gasped as she peered over her father's shoulder and looked at the A4 sheets of paper which he was holding which showed the website of one Irene Adler. "How can she move like that? It looks painful."

"Alison," Sherlock spoke to his daughter, "I don't need to know your opinion of this."

"But look at that whip. I reckon-"

"-Thank you for your input," Sherlock decided.

"She's a dominatrix," Mycroft told Sherlock. "She has been involved in two scandals in the last year and I imagine if this scandal was to break out then it would be the biggest one. But don't be alarmed, she deals with sex."

"Sex doesn't alarm me," he said quickly.

"And you would truly know that, would you?"

"How do you think my daughter ended up here?"

"Hm," the man who was sat next to Mycroft spoke. "This is a case which pays out very well. Shall you help us, Mr Holmes?"

Sherlock looked down at Irene Adler as Alison looked onto the picture once again and she saw her father truly observe the woman and she became suspicious instantly. But apparently it was with good cause.

...

"So she has a photo of her and a woman from the Royal Family?" Alison gasped slightly as the three of them sat in a cab that afternoon on the way back from the Palace and Sherlock nodded quickly.

"I know which member it is too."

"Who?" Alison asked. "Who is it?"

"I can hardly say, can I?" Sherlock replied.

"So what are we going to do?"

"We're going to find a disguise."

...

"And where are you going tonight?" Sherlock asked as he tried on a police coat in his bedroom and shook his head and Alison stood in the hallway, playing on the IPhone which her father had bought her when she broke her BlackBerry.

"I'm just going to another party," Alison shrugged. "I am allowed to, aren't I?"

"Yes," Sherlock said haughtily. "I don't think we have anything to worry about on the Moriarty front yet."

"And why are you trying on a lawyers wig?" Alison asked him and he removed it, realising it wasn't a convincing disguise.

"I need a good story to get into her house," Sherlock said. "I don't know what though."

"A dog collar?" Alison checked as she saw him try it on.

"That will do."

...

John was physically and mentally exhausted after everything which had happened on that day. First he had been to Buckingham Palace and then had beaten Sherlock to a pulp for a disguise. He had fought off American's trying to kill Adler and then had seen Adler in the raw. Yes, John was certainly tired. He had managed to drag Sherlock into his bed after Irene had drugged him to get the phone back from his clutches. So that was why John decided he would just rest in his armchair with a bottle of beer and the TV showing some boring TV which he did not care for. It was around midnight when he heard the scraping noise coming from downstairs. He lifted one lid up first and then the other followed as the noise persisted and he shook his head, standing up and stuffing the gun he kept in the desk drawer down his jeans and moved off to the stairs, still hearing the noise against the door before he opened it wide, ready to reach for his gun.

"Jonny!" the young girl said quietly in a high voice. "It's me..I couldn't get the key in the lock...I mean you know what I mean?"

"You're drunk," John told her and she shook her head, falling into the door causing John to reach out and grab onto her round her waist as she chuckled quietly.

"Where's daddy oh John?" she asked him.

"Asleep," John grunted as he began to help Alison up the stairs.

"Did he see Ireney?" she asked. "Did the sexual bother him?"

"How much did you have to drink?" John wondered and she winked lightly, trying to walk up the stair backwards.

"Not a lot dear doctor," she assured him and he couldn't help but smile. He had been her age once. Many years ago.

"You know what, John?" Alison told him. "I feel bad for you."

"Why?"

"You're all alone," she told him, sitting on the sofa and taking off her shoes whilst John remained stood up with his arms folded. "You've been sucked into the vortex of Sherlockness."

"The vortex of Sherlockness?"

"It's where you feel nothing," Alison told him. "You've had several failed relationships thingy and all because they think you're gay."

"I'm not gay," John said and Alison shrugged.

"Don't matter if you are," she told him. "I mean you're cute enough to get a girl...you just will not be able to hold them down."

"You're very philosophical when drunk," John told her and she burped lightly. "And I am not cute."

"You are," Alison assured him. "But I need to go to bed...I think a hangover is something unavoidable in the morning..."

Alison managed to stand up, singing to herself as she walked down the hallway and John watched her bang into the wall, chuckling to himself and shaking his head, wondering about Alison Holmes.

...

A/N: Thank you to all the encouragement on the story! Let me know what you think guys!


	20. Chapter 20

"The woman!" Sherlock snapped as he woke up once again after a few hours and Alison was walking down the hall, seeing her father's bedroom door open and John was in there, helping him stand up and then fall back onto his bed. "The woman...she was here. I saw her!"

"What is he on about?" Alison asked, leaning on the wall and looking at the two of them. Alison had a large headache due to her consumption of alcohol as she heard her father continue to snap at John.

"Irene Adler, I think," John informed her. "He's hallucinating because she gave him a drug."

"You failed to mention this last night," Alison remembered and then coughed, realising she had informed John he was cute. She reddened slightly at the memory as Sherlock tried to stand up once again, his finger pointing at his daughter.

"Where is the woman?" he asked her.

"And how would I know the answer to that?" she replied. "What are you doing anyway?"

"I'm trying to get him to go back to sleep but he is too stubborn." John complained whilst Sherlock dozily moved from side to side and Alison heard something in the room. The noise was completely erotic and John raised a brow at her and she shook her head, her eyes wide.

"That orgasmic noise was not me!" she informed him and looked at the back of Sherlock's door where his coat hung and the noise had come from that area. Alison dug around in his pocket, fishing out his phone and sliding it to unlock it.

"She says she hopes the drug has worn off," Alison muttered. "What is going on, John?"

"Irene Adler has gotten into his mind. It's obvious."

...

Christmas soon came around in the household of 221 B and Sherlock didn't want to do anything to celebrate. Alison had been trying to avoid him recently because she could tell that Irene Adler was the woman he was transfixed on. She didn't want him to be hurt by her and she knew that it was unavoidable if he was to meet her again. She was a high profile dominatrix who knew how to get what she wanted and Sherlock liked someone who could equal him. Alison understood her father wasn't interested in love. He saw it as a weak emotion but she wondered if he felt something. He was constantly playing on his violin and composing music which he only did when he was deep in emotions he couldn't deal with.

"That's a nice tune!" Mrs Hudson informed Sherlock on Christmas Eve when there was the usual Christmas get together. Alison looked at her father as he bowed once and placed his violin down. "Is it new, Sherlock?"

"Yes, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock told her.

"He seems a bit happier than he has been lately," John spoke in a whisper to Alison as the two of them stood in the kitchen, placing crisps into bowls and Alison shrugged once.

"His phone is always making that noise though. Do you know if he replies to her at all?"

"I don't think so," John spoke back. "I've never seen him text back."

"You'd best be getting back to Jeanette. She just offered dad food."

"Crap," John muttered, "he probably still thinks she's Sarah."

"And then there was the boring teacher," Sherlock said loudly. "But who was after that?"

"The boring teacher," Jeanette said back to Sherlock and John interrupted, his hand going around her waist and then pulling her away from Sherlock as the detective walked into the kitchen, leaning against the worktop as Alison faced it and he looked down at her.

"Are you alright?" he asked her and she blinked quickly.

"That is the first time you've asked me that in over four weeks," she told her father and he shrugged. "And you really do need to get John's girlfriend's names right."

"I haven't been in a conversational mood," he replied in a small mutter. "And John has a new girlfriend every week."

"What is going on, dad?" Alison finally asked, popping open another bag of crisps as she looked up at him. "What are you doing with her?"

"Nothing," Sherlock stated simply. "Nothing is going on."

"She texts you an awful lot," Alison whispered.

"I never reply. She was a woman who managed to get one over on me and that is all. You know I can't feel anything."

"Yeah," Alison agreed with a short laugh. "I got that much."

"Apart from when it comes to you," Sherlock drawled. "Does that make you feel any better?"

"Suppose so."

"I know you went to visit your mother's grave this morning," Sherlock told her, closing his eyes and clasping his hands together, "that's why I asked you how you were."

"It was only right to go and see her," Alison spoke, feeling like tearing up again. "It's Christmas."

"So we're all here for some Christmas drinky's then?" a shrill voice rang out and everyone turned to see Molly Hooper stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Lestrade held the beer which John had just give him as she removed her coat to show a simply black dress which clung to her body nicely. Sherlock rolled his eyes and moved back into the living room as Lestrade began to speak.

"I am going off with the wife as soon as I can," he said.

"No you're not," Sherlock replied, opening his laptop. "She's screwing the PE teacher."

"Sherlock!" John snapped as the detective looked at Molly.

"And Molly is clearly in love with someone," he decided and the mortician allowed her eyes to go wide as Alison moved back into the living room and stood near Molly, shaking her head at her father. "There's a present in the top of the bag which is nicely wrapped whilst the others are poorly done. There is also the amount of time she spent in picking her dress to make sure she looked nice and her breasts and lips don't look too small and so she must have love on her mind. The only question is, who is the lucky man?"

Sherlock picked the present up and his face dropped quickly and Alison shook her head, walking off back into the kitchen as Molly felt humiliated and expressed that.

"I'm sorry, Molly," Sherlock said and Alison turned around quickly. He had just apologised to her. Sherlock never apologised to anyone. The mood seemed to relax as John broke the ice and Sherlock moved off into the kitchen and down the hallway as Alison followed him.

"What are you doing?" she wondered and saw a red box in his hand which he quickly unwrapped.

"Nothing," he told her simply. "She left me her phone."

"Who?" Alison asked but she didn't need an answer. Irene Adler.

"Why did she do that?"

"I think she's going to be found dead tonight."

...

"I checked the bathroom," Alison told John. "There is nothing there. Are you sure Mycroft said it was going to be bad night?"

"He said he took the cigarette," John informed Alison. "So like an idiot I have decided to blow off Jeanette and stay here to make sure he doesn't do something stupid."

"I could have stayed here," Alison told him. "You shouldn't have blown Jeanette off."

"I'm not bothered," John shrugged. "She was a bit boring."

"There's nothing wrong with a bit of boring," Alison told him, opening her father's sock drawer and checking through it whilst John moved his head into Sherlock's wardrobe.

"There is when you've been living with Sherlock for so long," John replied.

"It's not always good to be with my dad all the time," Alison warned him. "Do you want to know how many times I've had to do this with my mum before?"

John remained silent before Alison spoke again.

"One hundred and seven. This will be one hundred eight."

"And has he ever had anything?"

"Sometimes," Alison nodded. "Mum found heroin once and yelled at him a lot. She threatened to not let him see me again and he stopped after that. I don't know if he hid them better the next time or if he did stop."

"I think he did stop," John decided. "He does care about you more than you think."

"I know," Alison sighed. "I just wish Irene Adler wouldn't mess him about."

"Hey," John muttered, moving from the wardrobe and helping Alison up from the floor with his hand. "He's a big boy. He can handle himself."

"I know," she nodded.

"So I am sure tonight won't be a danger night," he spoke back to her.

"You're a good listener, John," Alison told him. "I don't know what my dad would do without you."

"He'd be lost, I'm sure," John chuckled and Alison smirked back at him. She leant up and kissed him gently on the cheek, her lips lingering on his softly shaven skin for a few moments before she pulled away and looked into his eyes again and then coughed as she heard the door slam shut downstairs and she took off from Sherlock's room as John stood there, his hand resting on his cheek as he shook his head, walking back into the kitchen.

"Was you right?" Alison asked her father.

"It's were you. Were you right," Sherlock simply replied.

"Just answer the question," she replied.

"Yes," Sherlock spoke. "I'm off to bed. I hope you didn't mess my sock index up either."

...

A/N: Thanks to everyone reading and please do review!


	21. Chapter 21

Sherlock had not been himself since the death of Irene Adler. His mood was constantly low which caused the entire flat to have a sombre presence about itself. Alison barely stayed in the company of her father. Instead she jumped at chances to work extra shifts at the coffee shop and John was becoming a great help. He offered to take her out for dinner when Sherlock was in a particularly bad mood which upset Alison. She had tried to make him eat but he was refusing. He was a stubborn man and his stubbornness would soon lead him to be a starving man.

"You need to eat," Alison informed her father on the morning of New Year's Eve whilst he sat on the sofa, his blue dressing gown splayed over his body and his silken pyjamas covering him up.

"No," he said simply to Alison as she moved around the flat, tidying up his sheets of music before she looked at the clock and realised she had work to go to.

"You're going to make yourself sick," she spoke harshly to him. "You said Irene Adler didn't even matter to you so why are you being like this?"

He didn't respond to her. Instead he lay on the sofa, his hands resting on his stomach and his eyes focussed on the ceiling above him. Alison sighed once, flapping her arms to her side before she pulled her hair into a ponytail using the bobble around her wrist.

"I'm off to work," she spoke. "I shall see you tonight."

And he didn't say anything again.

...

Work at the coffee house was stimulating for Alison. She carried out the mundane tasks and sometimes she didn't mind it. She didn't mind the simplicity of life whilst she was working. There was no revision to be done when she returned home and there was no desire for her to get good grades and end up at university. But then when she returned home after an eight hour shift she realised that studying was where she wanted to be. She wanted to return to college badly but she knew by doing that then Moriarty was a risk. She had distanced herself from friends lately, only attending an odd party thrown by a member of staff. But her true friends at college had not heard from her lately and she planned to leave it that way. Moriarty had gotten to Damian and Alison didn't want him getting to anyone else.

The walk home from work was brisk and slightly cool in the air of New Year's Eve and Alison managed to avoid the busy crowds, turning up to Baker Street and then down to 221, pausing slightly as she saw a sign on the door. It was Sherlock's writing but the message was odd. 'Crime Scene in Progress, please disturb'. Alison unlocked the door after grabbing her keys from her jacket and slid it open, walking up the steps to see an unusual sight.

"I'm glad you're back," Sherlock decided, standing in the centre of the room and looking at Alison and then back at the man he had tied to a chair. "I need you to give Mrs Hudson some of those calming pills you keep in your room. I did have a look but I could only find birth control pills and I don't think Mrs Hudson-"

"-Before I do anything," Alison interrupted him and he cocked a brow at her in expectation, "I want to know what the hell is going on here?"

Alison took a seat next to Mrs Hudson and patted the old woman on the hand as she continued crying lightly and shaking her head, insisting she was being silly.

"It seems Mrs Hudson was held hostage by our dear guest here," Sherlock nodded at the American who was struggling to speak in the gag Sherlock had provided and Alison shook her head.

"So why was he here?" she asked her father. "And why is Mrs Hudson a part of this?"

"I shall explain later, Alison," Sherlock decided. "Now take Mrs Hudson back to her flat. I'm going to call Lestrade."

"Mrs Hudson," John's sudden voice entered the flat and he knelt in front of the crying old woman. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Mrs Hudson will be fine," Sherlock snapped, tired of people worrying over her when all she had was shock in her system. "I want the three of you to go downstairs."

"Fine," Alison hissed back at Sherlock and her and John guided Mrs Hudson back down to her flat and helped to sit her on the chair in her kitchen whilst Alison hit the switch on the kettle and John began to examine her face for bruising.

"So who did this to you, Mrs Hudson?" John asked her and she shrugged.

"It was that American upstairs," she told him. "I imagine this is some bother which Sherlock has managed to get himself into?"

"It's not rocket science to figure that out, Mrs Hudson," Alison assured her, placing a tea bag into her cup and grabbing the milk from the kitchen.

"I don't think you have any broken bones of fractures," John told her. "It is just bruising."

"I'll be fine in an hour or two," she assured John.

"Maybe you should take some time away from Baker Street?" he suggested to her. "You have a sister and you could visit her."

"No," Mrs Hudson declared. "I'll be fine."

As Alison picked the kettle up there was a sudden loud thud from outside, causing the whole inhabitants of the room to jump which made Alison lose grip on the kettle as the boiling water missed the cup and fell onto her hand which was resting beside it.

"Crap!" Alison snapped as Mrs Hudson complained about the bins being messed up. John noted the teen place the kettle back onto the worktop and saw the boiling water as a puddle on the worktop. He jumped from his seat and placed a hand onto Alison's hip, his other hand grasping onto her burnt one as he moved her over to the sink, running the cold water and placing her hand under it.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, his hand still on hers under the cold water and his other hand on her hip, resting on where her white blouse sat and she nodded.

"I just jumped," she told him. "It stings a bit but I've had worse at work."

"It will sting for quite a while. Try to numb it now whilst it's fresh," John nodded once before they heard the ringing of sirens in the background, knowing it was the ambulance and the police. Mrs Hudson excused herself to use the bathroom before John turned off the cold water and Alison turned around, allowing John to look at where she had burnt herself.

"It will be fine," he decided. "There is no long lasting damage."

"Thanks," Alison whispered her hand still in John's before they heard a coughing noise in the room and turned to see Sherlock entering through the back door.

"What is going on?" he asked and Alison moved from John who coughed, itching the back of his neck as he did so.

"I think you should answer that question for me first," Alison told her father. "What did that American man want?"

"I take it he wanted this?" Mrs Hudson's shrill voice asked and she produced a phone from inside her blouse and Sherlock nodded, opening her fridge as she passed him the phone and he grabbed a small cake from the cold storage space. "You left it in your second favourite dressing gown you twit."

"I thank you very much," Sherlock nodded, stuffing the cake into his mouth and nodding as he squeezed the old woman around her shoulders and Alison's eyes went wide.

"You're eating," she told her father who raised a brow.

"I have to eat or I die."

"You have only been eating when necessary," she replied. "Now you're eating because you want to."

Sherlock looked at his daughter as she stared back at him, the two of them having a wordless conversation before Alison chuckled once.

"She's alive, isn't she?" she checked and Sherlock nodded.

...

"Alison worries about you," John informed Sherlock at eleven that evening and Sherlock sat in the armchair whilst John held the remote in his hands, flipping whenever an advert came onto the screen and Sherlock raised a brow.

"Why?" he asked his friend.

"She doesn't want Irene to mess you about. She thinks you feel something for her," John shrugged and Sherlock clasped his hands together, his eyes narrowed at his friend.

"She need not worry. I can contain my hormones unlike some people," Sherlock muttered and John looked away from the TV and to the detective who had a frown on his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Are you forgetting what I do for a living, John?" Sherlock asked. "I observe people. I read their body language. Do you think that I haven't seen what has been going on for the last few weeks?"

"I don't think you have because you've been too busy sulking over Irene," John nodded and Sherlock snorted, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

"You must think me dense, John," he complained.

"We know I think anything but that."

"Then you shall know that I know how you feel," Sherlock hissed lowly, well aware Alison was in her room and could hear if his voice was to become raised.

"And what do I feel?"

"You are attracted to my daughter."

The room went silent whilst John's eyes went wide and his breathing became shallow. Sherlock observed the way he was moving and shifting about in his chair, his eyes not looking anywhere but the floor and Sherlock shook his head.

"That's not true-" John began to mutter.

"-Don't even attempt to lie to me," Sherlock replied quickly in interrupting John. "I can see the way you've been looking at her recently. Whenever you two are in the same room your eyes can't keep from her. You've been taking her out to dinner a lot recently-"

"-Because you've been moping around her which upsets her!" John hissed with haste. "She doesn't need to see that."

"Your pupils dilate and your breathing shallows whenever you two are close. I am guessing your pulse quickens too."

"You have got this all wrong."

"Really?" Sherlock muttered. "I don't think I have. I do have one query though. I searched her room and found birth control pills-"

"-No," John interrupted. "Do not even ask me if I am sleeping with her."

"I know you want to. You're a typical male and it would only be right for you to want to do that but I am warning you, John," Sherlock said lowly."I do not want anything going on between you and Alison. She is almost half your age and she is also my daughter."

"I am aware."

"Then if you are aware you will stop this. You will stop this right now, John."

Before John had a chance to reply Alison walked into the living room and Sherlock managed to smile up at her.

"Are you not going out tonight?" he asked and she shook her head.

"It's New Years Eve and I have nothing else to do but to stay here with you two middle aged men," she drawled and Sherlock shook his head.

"I am hardly middle aged," he told her.

"You're not far off it," she assured him as John's eyes remained locked on the TV, his jaw set squarely as he turned a slight shade of red. As the clock approached ten to twelve he stood up, dropping the remote into his empty seat and then storming off without a word, walking up the steps and slamming his bedroom door shut. Sherlock did nothing but sit and watch him and Alison looked up from where she was sat at the desk, flicking through a magazine.

"What was wrong with John?" she asked Sherlock.

"No idea," he lied and stood up, perching himself against the wall and opening the net curtain up to look onto Baker Street and the night sky.

"You used to love standing at the window and watching the fireworks go off," Sherlock told her. "You did it every year when your mother allowed you to stay with me."

"I can watch the main fireworks on TV," she shrugged and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Everyone does that and besides they only seem to make a large noise and are a large polluter on my vision. You should watch the ones normal people set off."

"You seem adamant tonight."

"I just want it to be like it was for once," Sherlock told his daughter. "I realise I may have been neglecting you recently."

"So you think watching fireworks will change that?" she asked him dryly.

"You were much less stubborn as a child," he deduced. "Now come on or you'll miss them."

Alison sighed once, standing up and then standing in front of her father at the side of the window as he passed her the net curtain to hold back. Sherlock leant on the corner of the wall which was slightly uncomfortable but he didn't moan. He reached his hand around and grasped onto his daughters as she looked out the window and the clock struck twelve. Sound blared out from the TV as the small fireworks from other households moved around London and the pair of them remained silent as they echoed the dark of the night. It took around two minutes for them to stop but the ones at Big Ben continued to go on. Alison turned around and Sherlock bent down, kissing her on the forehead.

"Happy New Year, Alison," he whispered lightly as Alison wrapped her arms around his waist, her head resting against his chest, realising she had missed him whilst he had mourned Adler's non- existent death. Sherlock struggled to grab his phone from his pocket but he did so, not letting Alison go as he text behind her shoulder to Irene. He wished her a Happy New Year and that was all.

...

A/N: Thanks to everyone reading and please review! Alison and John? Yes or no? Give me your verdict!


	22. Chapter 22

Sherlock had left early the next morning after Lestrade had called him and asked him to go and take a look at a case which he was sure anyone could handle. John had been in the living room when the call had been received but Sherlock had swept past him without another word, grabbing onto his coat and scarf and walking down the stairs. John didn't follow him and he remained sat at the desk, reading through the paper from the previous day and shaking his head as he stuffed cereal into his mouth.

"Did I just hear my dad go out on a case?" Alison suddenly asked when she walked into the living room and John looked at her before he went back to his cereal.

"Yes," John said curtly to her and she blinked quickly, unable to understand why he was being short with her.

"Why did you go to bed early last night?" she asked, pouring an orange juice and then standing in the doorway of the living room and kitchen and drinking it. "You could have stopped awake last night for another ten minutes."

"I didn't feel like it," John simply told her and Alison wondered what had gotten into him.

"What's wrong?" Alison asked him. "What is up with you?"

"Nothing," John told her.

"So why are you not on the case with him?"

"What is with the twenty Q's?" John snapped and Alison's head moved back and she looked at him and then back into the kitchen.

"I'll stop bothering you then," she decided, slamming her glass into the sink and then storming off to her room. John sighed once and shook his head, wondering why he had been mean to her. He rolled his eyes, dropping his spoon into his dish and then standing up, walking off to her room and knocking lightly on the door before she opened it up to him.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," John said. "I didn't mean to be snarky with you."

"Why were you?"

"I..." John wondered what to tell her. "I have an issue...and I shouldn't be taking it out on you..."

"What is your issue?" Alison asked. She walked back into her room, leaving her door open and John entered. He had only been in her room a handful of times to deposit things or to ask her questions about Sherlock. She sat cross legged on her bed, waiting for him to say something as he clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his heels.

"I don't really feel like sharing," John spoke lightly. "I don't think it is important anyway."

"It seems to be on your mind so I'm listening if you want to talk."

"Thanks," John simply said, "but I'm fine."

Alison sighed, her hand resting onto her forehead as she looked at her dark brown duvet and shook her head.

"I know what it is about," she said simply and John's eyes went wide, his forehead warming up with sweat as Alison looked at him. "You and my dad were rowing last night and I know what about, John. I was in the kitchen the whole time."

"You were?"

"Yes," Alison sighed, "and I think my dad is right."

John didn't reply to her. He remained stood up and Alison smiled lightly up at him, patting to the space on her bed where he then went to sit, his hands resting in his lap as Alison looked at him.

"There is a large age gap," she said to him. "I don't want to ruin what we have at the moment."

"What do we have at the moment?"

"We're friends," Alison said to him. "I know you like me...and I...you've been so good to me, John."

"I get it," John said. "I know we're nothing more and I know you wouldn't even like me. You're too good anyway, Alison...you're young and beautiful and have lots of other people who would be better for you than me...I don't even know why we're having this discussion."

"We're having this conversation because we need to," she decided. "I don't want you and my dad to fall out over this. He's changed ever since you've been here."

"That doesn't tell me how you feel," John whispered. "Last night I didn't like Sherlock telling me what I can and cannot do. Then I realised he was right."

"Really?" Alison checked and nodded sternly once.

"There can't be an us," John spoke. "You're his daughter and he doesn't want that for you."

"And you're his friend. If anything ever happened then he would be...it would mess him up, John...we're both lonely and we think this is the answer but it isn't."

"I know," John tried to say without gritting his teeth. "We're both just as messed up with being him and we think this would be good but deep down we know it wouldn't."

"Exactly," Alison said lightly, leaning slightly towards John as he turned the top half of his body to face her, leaning in lightly, his hand resting onto her bare arm and she shivered lightly.

"This is wrong," she told John as his thumb gently stroked her skin, goosebumps forming on her paleness as his other hand rested onto her neck.

"Does it feel wrong?" John asked her.

"I don't know, John," she decided, uncrossing her legs and kneeling on the bed. John dropped his hand from her arm, resting it onto her thigh as her chest rested against his, pressing against him and his breathing dropped down.

"Forget about him," John told her. "Just forget about everything."

"I am," she said and she slowly managed to press her lips against his. John allowed her to shape her mouth against his and he then began to dominate, his mouth forcing hers open and his tongue invading her mouth. Alison groaned lightly against him. Neither of them knew Sherlock had forgotten his wallet and was standing in the hall.


	23. Chapter 23

Alison was unlike any woman John had previously kissed and if he had to be honest there had been quite a few. He didn't know how she was different but all that he knew was that she was different. He had managed to shift their positions so she was laid on the bed and he was resting on top of her, his mouth moving up and down her neck as she withered underneath him and her moans echoed in the room.

"John," she whispered his name as his mouth reached the bottom of her jaw and his hands left ghostly trails against her sides. The doctor looked up at her and saw she had her eyes closed, her mouth was slightly parted and her breathing focused low.

"Alison," John spoke her name deeply and she opened her eyes, looking directly into his as her hand rested onto his cheek. Before John had a chance to say anything else he heard a blaring noise come from the flat and he climbed off the blonde who sat up as John opened the bedroom door and looked into the hallway where smoke filled the corridor and he began to cough, walking through the hall as Alison entered it.

"What is it?" she called out to John, coughing for breath as she did so and John entered the kitchen, seeing the burning of the newspaper in the sink. He quickly turned the cold water tap on, allowing the liquid to flow onto the flames whilst Alison stood nearby.

"What was that?" she asked.

"A newspaper had caught on fire," John informed her. "Just open the windows in the living room so we can try and get rid of this smoke."

Alison nodded and did as he had told her before she checked the clock.

"Crap!" she exclaimed. "I'm going to be late for work...Jesus Christ."

She began to move back into the smoke filled kitchen where John was looking at the fire alarm but he grabbed her by the wrist, drawing her back to him.

"What just happened," he began, "I would understand if it didn't mean anything to you."

"No," Alison shook her head. "I don't know what it meant, John."

The two of them remained staring at each other for a few seconds before Alison took her wrist from John's hand, walking back into her room through the smoke to grab her clothes. John went back to swearing at the alarm and then he realised what had just happened. Something had been set on fire which meant someone had been in the apartment. Someone had possibly heard what John and Alison wanted to keep secret. And John didn't need to guess who that someone was.

...

Sherlock went about the case with haste for Lestrade, not bothering to speak to anyone and not even having any witty remarks to say to Anderson which pained him slightly. The cab ride home was silent as Sherlock rested his leather clad hands together, looking out the window and wondering what exactly he was to do about the situation which had begun to unfold. Once the cab pulled up Sherlock paid. He had forgotten his wallet previously but after he had returned for it he had seen John's and decided to take his instead. He also risked setting fire to the kitchen. Sherlock moved into 221 B and looked around the living room which was a still a bit cloudy and he found no sign of life. He moved into the kitchen and then he saw him. His flatmate was stood near the worktop, grabbing onto bottles and pulling them from plastic bags as he had clearly just completed the shopping. Sherlock looked at him, his face stern and his eyes emotionless as John turned around and looked at his.

"Sherlock, I-"

But John didn't have a chance to say anything. Sherlock drew his fist back and then flung it straight at the other man, hitting him on the jaw which caused him to move backwards, his hand going straight for his skin where he had been punched.

"I warned you, John," Sherlock drawled lowly.

"So it was you who set fire to the newspaper," John spoke and Sherlock shrugged.

"I did what I had to do," he replied. "I forgot my wallet and decided to take yours back with me so you are short of forty pound."

"You..." John trailed off, sighing and realising that the wallet was not a big issue at the moment. "I didn't hurt her, Sherlock."

"Do you think I care if you hurt her or not?" Sherlock snapped. "I don't want you anywhere near her."

"She is old enough to know what she wants, Sherlock," John replied.

"She is seventeen and as long as she is living with me then she is not able to make her own decisions."

"You can't tell her what she wants and doesn't want."

"Yes I can!" Sherlock roared. "She is my daughter, John! My daughter! The age gap between you two is large and it would not end well. I don't know why you are using her like this but I don't like it."

"You think I am using her?" John replied.

"Yes," Sherlock replied. "Now stay away from her, John."

...

John walked out of Baker Street once again the evening as Sherlock remained in his room after having a shower. As he walked he saw Alison move down the street and she looked at his stern expression.

"He knows, doesn't he?" she simply asked John who nodded, grabbing onto her hand and pulling her into a small alleyway behind a row of houses.

"He was the one who set the newspaper on fire."

"Where is he now?"

"He's in the flat," John told her. "He took one look at me earlier and punched me straight in the face."

"Are you okay?" Alison checked and John nodded.

"I've had worse. I think you have a large lecture on the way," he warned her and she closed her eyes for a moment and then nodded.

"I guessed as much," she told John. He slowly reached out his hand, pushing a blonde lock of hair behind her ear as she shuddered.

"I can't pretend I'm not attracted to you, Alison," he warned her in a low voice.

"Just kiss me again John," she pleaded simply, not knowing what to say to him but knowing what she wanted and John did not disappoint.

...

"How was work?" Sherlock asked his daughter as she entered the flat, dropping her keys onto the coffee table and shrugging as Sherlock dropped the lid to his laptop and looked at her with his hands resting on the silver machine top.

"Why are you even bothering with the formalities when you know what happened?" she whispered and Sherlock chuckled once, his eyes dark and looking at the wooden desk as Alison removed her coat.

"I am trying my very best to not yell at you and inform you that you're grounded for the rest of your life," Sherlock replied in a slow and cautious voice.

"You didn't need to punch John."

"Yes I did," Sherlock said quickly back to her. "He should have known better. I don't expect you to understand at the moment as you are only a seventeen year old girl."

"I am old enough to understand, dad," she snapped. "I have been living with you far too long. Do you think that doesn't make me mature?"

"I think it makes you vulnerable," he spoke. "You lost your mother not long ago and I have not been a great deal of help recently but John is not the answer to your problems. What you feel for him is gratitude and not love."

"Love?" Alison cocked a brow. "Who said anything about love?"

"John is falling for you, Alison," Sherlock told her. "I've seen the signs so don't question me. I don't think you feel the same though. I don't think you know what to feel."

"I like John, dad," Alison muttered. "I know...it felt good...but he's...I don't know..."

"You're confused," Sherlock told her and he stood up, folding his arms as he did so whilst Alison moved over to the window, looking out onto the street. "John has been your comfort and you appreciate that. But this is not the answer Alison. He is far too old and it can only end in disaster."

"I don't know what to do," Alison began to sob lightly and Sherlock walked over to her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"You're just having a bit of a nervous breakdown," he simply spoke. "These feelings which you think you have for John will pass. You only like him because you have been alone but now you're not. I won't let you be alone again, okay?"

Alison sniffed loudly and turned around in Sherlock's arms, allowing him to encircle her as she rested her hands against his chest and cried quietly. He rested a hand onto the back of her head and closed his eyes lightly. Manipulating Alison was easy for him. He had told her why she felt what she felt and she believed him. He didn't like to do that to her but he knew it was for the best as John Watson was certainly no good for her.

...

A/N: Thank you so much to all my reviewers over the night! I am so glad you all have an opinion and thank you for letting me know! In the next chapter Irene Adler meets Alison when she asks Sherlock for help and she has some kind of twisted advice for the girl. Please do review and another chapter should be out tonight if I get time!


	24. Chapter 24

Life in Baker Street became awkward from the moment John walked back into the flat and Alison moved from her spot on the sofa and into her room. Sherlock said nothing to the man; instead he clasped his hands together and looked onto the TV which was blurting out noises Sherlock wasn't listening to. Sherlock told John that they were to forget the whole episode of what had happened that day and John didn't have a chance to disagree. From then on Alison and John avoided wanted conversation to each other for a month. The most she had asked him was to pass her the salt when she was cooking. John went back on cases with Sherlock even though the consulting detective was not best pleased with him still. They were civil and that was it. John couldn't understand anything. He truly thought Alison liked him but then he realised that Sherlock would not allow for that to happen.

...

"Dad," Alison called out as she walked into 221 B and she knew something wasn't quite right as she walked into the kitchen which was empty. There was no one in the flat but Alison could hear light breathing coming from Sherlock's room which was odd considering he always had the door shut. She slowly walked to the room, poking her head into it and then she saw something she didn't quite understand. There was a woman laid in Sherlock's bed with her hand stuffed under the pillow. Alison coughed once and the woman blinked quickly and then opened her eyes wide. Clearly she was not in a deep sleep.

"Alison Holmes, I take it," she drawled, sitting up slowly and looking at the girl who raised a brow.

"Irene Adler, I presume," Alison replied and the woman chuckled once.

"Sherlock has told you about me then?"

"You've certainly taken him back," Alison said, folding her arms whilst Irene stood up. Alison saw she was wearing her father's dressing gown which she was sure would not please him terribly at all. "He's never been outsmarted before."

"There is a first time for everything," Irene assured her.

"I take it you're here to see him for some reason then?"

"I need his help," she admitted.

"He shouldn't be long," Alison nodded and Irene cocked a brow.

"So you find me here and you aren't shocked or surprised that I broke into the flat?"

"Living with my dad means nothing surprises me anymore."

...

Irene picked up on the tension in the room as she sat and told Sherlock that killers were after her. She had been observing everything terribly and she knew exactly what was going on between John and Alison. The way that John moved past Alison without touching her or looking at her and the way that Alison avoided his eye contact when he was obviously staring at her was easy to pick up on. Then there was the way that Sherlock was always hovering, his eyes darting between the two of them. Alison excused herself shortly after Irene had asked Sherlock to decipher something and the next thing she heard was her bedroom door open and Irene Adler waltzed in.

"Yes?" Alison asked her and Irene sighed lightly.

"I will have to be going in a few moments. Your father and boyfriend have just left and I need to go and ruin your father's reputation for reasons you won't understand but I want to talk first."

Alison remained quiet, not moving from her bed but she did drop her book onto the duvet beside her whilst Irene sat down at the chair behind her desk.

"And why do you want to speak to me?" Alison asked. "And how are you going to ruin my father?"

"You shall see when he comes back," she drawled. "It is too late for you to do anything. But I would like to know the history between you and John."

"There is no history," Alison simply told her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Are you forgetting that I am the woman who outsmarted your father?" she asked her. "Do not lie to me. I am intrigued."

"Why?" was the simple question Alison asked her.

"I want to know what you see in him and why you would consider even being with him when there are many more options available."

"I don't think it is any of your business to be honest," Alison hissed back at her and Irene shrugged.

"I was just interested," she simply said. "I mean you're young and certainly attractive in comparison to some of the girls I have had and John is so boring and typical and he's male."

"I am aware he is a male," Alison whispered. "What does that even have to do with anything?"

"Men are so predictable," Irene complained. "They become dull after a while, trust me."

"I didn't know you were a les-"

"-I'm not," Irene interrupted her. "I don't particularly mind anyone but there are benefits to being with a woman."

"Like what?" Alison asked. "I don't even know why we're discussing this."

"I'm just intrigued, that is all," Irene assured her. "I can see you're unhappy too and men only make you unhappy sometimes. John has done that because you can't be with him without upsetting your father. Women are much gentler Alison."

"I don't like John," Alison shrugged. "I can't like him anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know what I want. I haven't had the easiest of times and I-"

"-Save me the sob story," Irene pleaded with her, raising a hand in the air to make her stop speaking. "It is quite simple. You either like someone or you don't."

"You really think that?" Alison shook her head. "So what do you feel towards my father?"

"Nothing," she lied. "You won't be calling me mummy anytime soon."

"I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that."

"It is clear you like John even though he is quite old for you and I could easily have set you up with other contacts to make yourself earn more money."

"I'd rather waitress for my entire life than do what you do," Alison promised her and Irene chuckled once, standing up again.

"You wouldn't," she simply said. "I had best be going. I wanted to warn you that your father will be coming home broken hearted from what is about to happen and as for John...if you make it much more obvious that you like him then you may as well wear a sign."

"What are you planning on doing?" Alison asked her and she chuckled, opening the door to her room.

"Burn a heart out of him."

...

Alison would have followed Irene but she wore her pyjamas and couldn't find where she had gone quick enough. She was worried for her father after what the dominatrix had said but she knew running around London would not help anyone. When she heard the door slam she rushed to the stairs, expecting to see Sherlock and John moving up the steps but it was just John.

"I thought you had gone with my dad?" she asked him as he stood in front of her and shook his head.

"I left and he was still here earlier. Did you not hear him go?"

"No," she said, "and Adler said she was going to ruin him. I've tried to call him but he's not answering."

"He'll be fine. He's Sherlock," John told her and moved into the living room, grabbing his laptop and sitting in his armchair.

"But what if he's not?"

"He will be," John said curtly and sighed once, shutting the lid of the laptop down again as he looked at Alison. "You do know this is the first time you've looked at me in a month?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, folding her arms and looking at the floor and John shook his head.

"Don't lie to me, Alison," he demanded from her. "I know you've been ignoring me."

"I..." she trailed off, not knowing what to say. "I...we..."

"What?" John snapped at her. "I thought you might have felt something...I know I did and I have been doing for the last few weeks. Just say now that you don't so I can get over this. So that I can do what Sherlock wants me to do!"

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad," Alison replied. "I just didn't know what to say to you. I didn't know how to make things go back to normal."

"I don't know how to do that either," he told her. "I know you're young and I shouldn't even be pressuring you about this...look...I'm sorry."

"No," Alison shook her head. "You don't need to be sorry for anything. I knew what I was doing, John...and I...Jesus Christ, John I still like you. I've tried not to...I've tried to do what my dad wants me to do."

"You're always trying to do what he wants you to do," John informed her. "Why don't you just do exactly what you want?"

"I don't know what I want," she whispered. John stood up, sensing she was about to cry but she remained dry eyed, stood in the room as he stood opposite her, going into his pocket.

"I only have a screwed up hankie if you plan on crying," he whispered and she managed to laugh once as he smiled back at her.

"I know there is an age gap and you're his daughter, Alison," John whispered, "but I can't help but be attracted to you."

"I know," she whispered. "I just don't think it will end well and my dad is too observant."

"He isn't here right now," John whispered, resting his hand onto her cheek as she stepped closer to him. "It is just you and me, Alison."

"I know." She replied and kissed him once again. John grasped onto her waist tightly, pulling her closer to him as he backed the pair of them to the edge of the desk. Alison managed to lift herself to sit on top of it as John kissed her quickly on the neck, his hands moving up her sides and resting onto her leg. Alison grasped onto his neck, drawing him up to look at her again.

"He can't know," she whispered.

"Why are you so scared about this?" John asked her. "Why do we have to hide how we feel?"

"Feel," Alison whispered. "How we feel."

John's eyes went wide as she pushed him back from her and jumped down from the desk, shaking her head with haste.

"We can't feel anything," she told him simply.

"What?" he asked her. "Since when did you turn into Sherlock?"

"I'm serious, John," she said snappily. "We cannot do this..."

"I'm getting mixed signals," he told her simply. "What is going on?"

"This," she said, pointing at the pair of them, "cannot happen. Someone will get hurt."

"How do you-"

"-I just know!" she interrupted him. "I just know."

Alison moved off down the steps of the flat. She couldn't like John. Everyone close to her had ended up dead or hurt and she wasn't risking it anymore. She didn't even know if she truly liked John but she knew she could easily see herself falling for him. She had fallen for Damian and he had hurt her. She loved her mother and she was dead. Precedent was not looking good if anything was to progress with John.


	25. Chapter 25

Sherlock was becoming tiresome once again. He had solved the case of Irene Adler and had even saved her life much to everyone's lack of knowledge. But the lack of cases on offer meant he was fed up with everything. Instead his daughter rarely spoke to him and John was being civil but that was all. It wasn't until one evening in the spring time when Sherlock realised he could not continue living in the way he had been doing.

...

"I know you still have feelings for John, Alison," Sherlock informed his daughter. That was the first sentence he spoke to her when he walked her home after her late night shift at the coffee shop. He rarely walked to meet her and this had been the first time in over four weeks.

"I've been trying not to," she grumbled, stuffing her hands into the pocket of her short skirt as she looked at the floor and Sherlock sighed once and lightly.

"This has been going on for too long," he admitted to her. "John is a good man. I think we can both agree on that. But he is too old and logic suggests it wouldn't work out."

"I don't want anything to happen between us dad," she replied and Sherlock cocked a brow, placing his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he continued to walk by her side in the cool and fresh night.

"And why is this?"

"I'm a danger magnet," she simply spoke. "Everyone who I have loved has become hurt by me. Damian was used by Moriarty and then mum was killed. I can't risk being close to anyone else...you said yourself that emotions are completely useless."

"I am a sociopath, Alison," Sherlock told her. "I am not really someone you should listen to when it comes to this feeling stuff."

"But I think you're right sometimes," she said. "I know that John is older than me and I think it would be a problem. The more I think about it the more stupid I feel for ever thinking anything could happen. But I can't pretend I don't feel anything."

"I know that John is a good man," Sherlock nodded. "I just don't think it is right and I am glad you see that too. Have you told John this?"

"I haven't spoken to John since I told him nothing could happen," Alison sighed and Sherlock closed his eyes momentarily and then nodded once.

"You need to talk to him," he said. "You need to explain this, Alison. You can't leave him hanging like this."

...

Sherlock was once again at St Bart's that evening, doing experiments on corpses which many would consider worrying as well as disturbing. Alison was alone with John in the living room and she sighed once, biting her bottom lip and sitting on the sofa with her laptop in her hands.

"You alright?" she managed to ask John and he looked up from the day's newspaper which he had been reading, blinking and then nodding once.

"I'm fine," he said politely. "You?"

"No," Alison admitted. "We need to talk."

"We haven't been doing that in a while," he simply snorted and Alison closed her eyes and John shook his head. "Sorry," he whispered. "What's up?"

"The reason why I didn't want anything to happen was nothing to do with you," she told him and he chuckled once.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Would it not help if I was ten years younger?"

"Maybe," Alison whispered. "But you're not and that isn't the point. The point is that everyone who I have liked has been hurt, John. I've lost my mother...and...I lost Damian..." she told him and he noted her eyes began to form with tears and he sighed once.

"Is this because you still love Damian?"

"No," she shook her head. "I mean...it's different, John. What I am trying to say is that whilst Moriarty is out there then he has the potential to hurt anyone close to me. Why do you think I don't talk to my friends anymore?"

John remained quiet and Alison smiled at him lightly. "You're a good person John and I should have told you this earlier and I am sorry I didn't."

"You're worried we'd be hurt," he nodded. "I suppose that makes sense."

"And besides," Alison said and she stood up, walking into the kitchen. "The age would become annoying when we take it into consideration."

John nodded once, forcing himself to bite his tongue and not say anything back to her. Alison leant onto the worktop and took a deep breath, nodding to herself. It was better this way. It had to be.

...

"Devon?" Alison checked and Sherlock nodded as he handed her the ticket for the train which she took as they sat in the station and waited for the train to arrive. Sherlock had simply told his daughter to take a week off work and they were going away somewhere. Sherlock didn't say where or give any more details.

"Why are we going to Devon?"

"You remember that man who came around?" John asked her and she nodded. "Well he thinks he has seen this large Hound. He thinks it killed his dad and he keeps seeing it and thinks that it is linked to Baskerville."

"Isn't that the place which Mycroft sometimes talks about?"

"Yes," Sherlock nodded to her.

"And there is some kind of killer hound on the loose?" she asked, pulling out her IPhone and typing the relevant information into Google, knowing a search engine was more useful that her father when it came to matters like this and conversation.

"Bluebell also needs to be found."

"What?" Alison asked and John shook his head.

"Don't ask."

...

"No!" Alison snapped at her father as he handed her the room key and she shook her head with haste. "I am not sharing a room with you two."

"Why not?" Sherlock simply asked her. "It is the only room left at the inn."

"Just the issue Mary and Joseph had," John said, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Who?" Sherlock wondered and Alison shook her head as Sherlock led the way up to the room and dropped his bag onto the floor, waiting for Alison to open the door and switch the light on. She entered the small room and noted a double bed along with a sofa which she presumed pulled out into a bed and she placed her large pink holdall onto the double bed, sitting down on it as Sherlock checked the bathroom and John looked out the window.

"It's quiet," he declared and Sherlock came back into the main room.

"It is twelve at night," he said. "Of course it will be quiet. Now, John you can take the sofa."

"Why can't I have the bed?" John complained and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"You are always moaning that people have the wrong impression of us and sharing a bed would only confirm their beliefs. Alison will have to share with me much to my dismay."

...

"So you plan to break into Baskerville with Mycroft's ID?" Alison checked the next morning. She was still laid in the double bed as Sherlock and John tidied the room slightly. Well, John did anyway. Sherlock had brought breakfast up to the room in the form of three croissants in a bag and two polystyrene cups of tea and a small cartoon of orange juice which Alison was slurping through the straw provided.

"Yes," Sherlock told her. "I have John with me and he can act as some kind of Army official. Unfortunately there is no place for you."

"I don't even want to go," she told him. "You cannot honestly believe this is going to work?"

"Of course it will," Sherlock nodded, "for about twenty minutes."

"And if we get caught then you're taking the blame," John told Sherlock, pointing at him whilst the detective rolled his eyes and drank the tea which was in his hand as John pushed the sofa bed away.

"We won't have chance to get caught," he told his friend. "So you need to stay here and then after dinner we can go and try and find this Hound of Hell for ourselves...exciting, isn't it?"

...

"John!" Alison hissed into the darkness as she saw him wander off, his torch shining brightly into the distance as Alison looked at her father who was following Henry Knight further into the woods. Alison huffed to herself, moving behind John and grabbing onto his arm and he turned his head to look at her.

"What are you doing? They went further into the woods!" she snapped at him and John cocked a brow at her and then pointed into the distance where she saw some form of light flashing on and off.

"What do you think it is?" she wondered and jumped as she heard the snapping of a twig and grabbed onto John's arm with haste and he looked at her.

"I don't know what it is," he replied in a mutter. "Don't tell me you're scared."

"I'm petrified!" she snapped at him. "We're in the middle of some dark woods and there is apparently some large killing dog! Of course I'm jumpy at every noise which is made."

"Well...um...you can let go...or hold on...whichever you prefer really," John grumbled and Alison shook her head.

"Sorry," she said. "I...I just...well..."

"We'll go back to the inn," John decided. "Sherlock will be fine on his own."

...

Alison remained in the room whilst John went to check on Sherlock who he had seen walk back into the inn, looking behind him constantly and appearing as if he had a fright. Alison had been for a shower and was sat on the bed, running a towel through her wet hair and checking her IPhone which like normal had no messages. It was another half an hour before John walked back into the room, slamming the door shut and grumbling under his breath as Alison looked up at him.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Sherlock!" he snapped at her. "He saw the hound."

"What?"

"Yeah," John nodded. "Now he's gone into denial and saying he doesn't need anyone. He's basically being an arse."

"I'd best go and check on him," Alison complained and stood up, grabbing her clothes and pulling her hair into a bobble and John nodded.

"I'm off to investigate the Morse Code," he said to her. "Tell Sherlock I will be back later."

...

Alison looked around the restaurant but found no sign of her father anywhere. She tried the bar area and sighed lightly and then she looked out the window. He was sat on a wooden bench outside the inn in the cold night air. Alison walked out to him and sat next to him and he looked at her. He had been sweating terribly and his eyes were blank, his hand shaking and he raised it to show her.

"I'm scared," he whispered. "I'm physically scared, Alison. My body is failing me."

"It is natural dad," she told him simply. "What did you see?"

Sherlock took a deep swig of the beer which he had purchased, hoping it would calm him slightly and he shook his head, closing his eyes and running his hands over his cheeks with haste.

"I saw the Hound," he whispered to her. "I saw it with my own eyes."

"Are you sure?" she asked him. "The dark can play tricks."

Sherlock gulped and shook his head quickly as he did so.

"No," he told her. "I saw it."

"Come inside," she said, wrapping her hand around his arm and he looked at the contact and then into her eyes. "Sitting in the cold isn't going to help dad."

"It's clearing my head," he told her.

"Well come and clear it inside," she pleaded. "Sleep will help. It takes away the human emotions which you don't like."

"Where did John go?"

"He...he isn't best pleased and he went to work something out...now come on..."

Sherlock stood up slowly, looking around the dark street as Alison grasped onto his hand and led him back into the inn. He knew what he had seen. And he wasn't going to forget.


	26. Chapter 26

"Time to wake up!" Sherlock sang the next morning as Alison became startled, sitting up quickly with her hair flying all around her as she looked around the room, wondering where the fire was.

"What?" she asked, confused in the morning by his chirpy spirit and he pulled the curtains back to reveal the daytime and Alison closed her eyes, laying back down on the bed, stuffing her head into her pillow.

"I said it is time to get up, Allie," he spoke and Alison looked up again, her eyes still staring at the white pillow.

"Did you just call me Allie?"

"It would appear so."

"You never call me that," Alison muttered and looked at her father who was shrugging into his blazer, straightening the arms out as he looked down onto the floor.

"There's a first time for everything," Sherlock spoke. "Now up you get. I have already been to see Henry Knight."

"What?" Alison asked, the memory of the previous night coming back to her. "You saw that Hound last night dad. How are you so calm?"

"I thank you for pointing out the obvious," he shook his head. "My mind got the better of me. There can be no such thing as a Hound. There has to be something else. Now get up, I made you coffee."

"I don't drink coffee," Alison stated and Sherlock pouted lightly.

"I thought you did? You work in a coffee house," he pointed out.

"That doesn't mean anything," she shook her head, climbing from the bed ungracefully and standing up, stretching as she did so.

"Well you could use the coffee," he promised her. "You look tired and I think there are bags under your eyes."

"What?" Alison snapped and rushed off to a mirror leaving Sherlock chuckling.

...

"So where are we going now?" Alison asked as she walked beside her father in the late morning. Sherlock was going at an unreasonable pace as per usual and Alison had to stride to keep up. Sherlock walked through the village, his hands in his pockets as he looked around for a sign of the blonde haired doctor he was after.

"We're just going for a walk," Sherlock shrugged to her and spotted John in a graveyard.

"Oh," Alison nodded as Sherlock stood still for a second, nodding to himself once and straightening his jacket out as he raised a brow at Alison.

"What?" he asked her.

"John said you had a row last night hence why you look on edge," she told her father and he narrowed his eyes, beginning to walk off again and Alison followed.

"I am not on edge," he grumbled under his breath. "I'm fine."

"John," Sherlock nodded at the doctor who stood up and looked at the pair of them.

"Alison," he nodded at her as she smiled. "Sherlock."

"Did you talk to Henry's psychiatrist?" Sherlock asked his friend.

"You didn't need to send me a picture to show me how good looking she was," John hissed and Alison remained quiet, not saying anything and not sure what she should say. It shouldn't bother her. It couldn't bother her.

"I didn't," Sherlock shook his head. "I sent you her picture so you knew what she looked like."

John took his time to not say anything again before he coughed once.

"Well she didn't tell me anything. It was a dead end."

"And what about the Morse code?" Alison chipped in, knowing what he had been looking at previously.

"It was a dead end," John coughed again, turning red as he did so.

"UMQRA, was it not?" Sherlock asked. "U...M..." he spelt it out and John shook his head, raising a hand to make him stop.

"It isn't anything," he snapped. "Just leave it."

John began to wander off but Alison and Sherlock remained stood where they were. Sherlock looked at his friend, calling out to him as he did so.

"I meant what I said, John," he spoke loud and clear. "I don't have friends...I just have one."

The two of them looked at each other for a moment and Alison looked between the pair of them. She had never seen her father say anything like that. God he never even told her that he loved her yet admit that he had a friend. Alison looked away for a moment as her IPhone began to ring and she wandered off to the other side of the graveyard, answering as Sherlock nodded at her and walked over to John. He knew it would be Mycroft calling her and getting her to be his puppet.

"What is he up to, Alison?" he asked straight away and Alison leant against the gate and chuckled lightly.

"Nice to speak to you too, dear Uncle Mycroft," she smirked and heard him sigh down the phone in frustration.

"I went to the flat and gathered he had taken you all on some dysfunctional holiday to the countryside. What does he want with Baskerville?"

"I don't even know to be honest," Alison admitted to her uncle. He hasn't said anything to me about Baskerville apart from that he thinks there are some dodgy experiments going on in there."

"I need you to keep me informed on what is going on, Alison," Mycroft demanded from his niece.

"I'm not your watchdog," she complained. "He won't be able to get back in anyway, will he?"

"I have changed the code to my ID so I think not," Mycroft drawled. "He's after this Hound from Hell, isn't he?"

"Yes," she said. "You've heard of Henry Knight I presume?"

"Yes," Mycroft said in a low and complaining voice. "Just tell him not to do something which could mess up government business."

"You tell him," Alison snapped back.

"Do you think he would listen to me?"

"You think he will listen to me?"

...

"He's given you access?" Alison snapped as her father returned with John after telling Lestrade what to do. The detective had miraculously appeared and Alison knew Mycroft would have sent him down to Devon. "He told me to keep you away!"

"He's given me a twenty four hour run of the place," Sherlock told his daughter, throwing her a set of keys and she looked at them as Sherlock smirked lightly at her puzzled face.

"What are these?"

"Keys, Alison," he stated the obvious and she rolled her eyes. "Seeing as how you passed your driving test a while ago I thought you could drive there."

"Don't I need insurance?" she asked, unlocking the car as she did so and John's face went pale.

"We're in the middle of the countryside," Sherlock informed her. "No one will care."

"It's illegal!" John pointed out.

"Most things I do are," Sherlock shrugged. "Besides, I want to see if she is as good as she said she was when she had her driving lessons."

"And you choose these narrow roads with no speed limits to test this theory out?"

"Looks like it."

...

"I suppose we're in one piece," John muttered as he climbed from the car and Sherlock did the same, his foot slightly shaking after he had been tapping it on the drive to Baskerville. He hated not being in control. It got to him badly.

"Who is this?" Alison asked, nudging her father as a stern looking man walked out to the entrance of the building, his face full of thunder and Sherlock smirked lightly.

"Major Barrymore," he nodded and the man stood still and looked at them.

"This isn't right. The whole idea of Baskerville was to stop this kind of thing from happening!" he snapped at the three of them and John shook his head.

"It is for twenty four areas," he said. "I think you can survive."

The man stepped away from them and led them into the building. As soon as he had left Sherlock looked at John and Alison, handing them two pieces of plastic cards.

"I need to go and explore. You two take the lower levels," he demanded and before Alison could question him about anything he had left them and stalked off in another direction. John sighed once, pressing the button to the elevator.

"Alison," he hissed her name once the steel doors opened and she was still stood still, looking into them at John. "Come on."

"Are there are no stairs?" she asked him and he stepped out the metal box and looked at her as she sweated slightly.

"You don't like elevators?" he checked with her and she nodded quickly.

"I hate them," she said. "I just don't like them...can we please use the stairs?"

"Yeah," John nodded. "Come on then."

The two of them made their way down into the basement level and looked around where cages were housed. Alison walked in front slightly as people left the room until it was just them two.

"This is some creepy stuff," she muttered and John nodded once in agreement, peering through a curtain on the cage and then jumping as a monkey screeched at him.

"Bloody hell," he complained. "I wonder what is through that door."

Alison looked at the door on the far end of the room in question and she shrugged, grabbing her plastic card and pulling it out and scanning it into the machine, stepping back as access was granted and she entered the door followed by John.

"So what really goes on here?" Alison asked John as she saw a sign warning her not to enter unless she wanted a cold.

"I don't know," John muttered back. "But whatever it is they want to keep it quiet."

"It has to be something dodgy, doesn't it?"

"I reckon so," John nodded and they looked at the pipe which was exerting gas from it.

"And what is that?" Alison asked, bending down on her knees and grasping onto the pipe next to the broken one and she looked into the gas.

"Don't get too close to it!" John snapped at her, worrying for her. "You don't know what it could be."

"I'm sure it isn't anything poisonous," she assured John, standing up straight again as John shook his head.

"We'll go," he said to her. "This place is creeping me out."

"Okay," Alison agreed and followed John out the cold room and into the main room but the two of them jumped back as their eyes became blinded by sudden light. Alison looked up at the lamp which was on full blast and then covered her eyes as John did the same.

"What the hell is going on?" she wondered and John shook his head.

"We're going," he said. "Take my hand and we'll get to the door. I have a bad feeling."

"Okay," Alison agreed hastily, grabbing onto John's hand tightly and they stumbled over to the door where John swiped his card.

"It won't open!" he told her and she blinked quickly, the lights suddenly going out as John tried his card again.

"What...John..." she whispered; her breathing deep and coming out in short pants. "John, what is this?"

"I don't know," he whispered back to her and they suddenly heard a clattering noise. Alison's grip on John's hand increased immensely and he grabbed her around the waist as they heard a low growling noise and John shook his head, rushing both of them across the room, successfully bumping into anything they could manage.

"It's here..." Alison whispered. "The Hound...oh God..."

"In here," John whispered and pushed Alison's body down, making her go into the metal cage and he then shut the door to it, settling down on the floor as Alison knelt by him and he pulled his phone out as the moving footsteps and growling continued. At first there was no answer and then Alison's phone began to ring.

"Dad," she squeaked into the machine. "It's here dad..."

"What?" Sherlock asked; his voice full of concern. "You need to stay quiet, Alison. What can you see?"

"Nothing," she muttered, resting against John, her arm wrapping around his as he looked at her and knew they were both scared. He slowly removed his arm from hers and grabbed her around the waist, sliding her to settle onto his lap as her phone remained pressed to her ear, her head buried into John's chest.

"Alison you need to tell me what you can see," he demanded from her and she began to shake, closing her eyes and grabbing onto John's jacket.

"I can't," she replied. "I can hear it dad...it's in here..."

"Is John still with you?"

"Yes."

"Let me talk to him, Alison," Sherlock demanded calmly from her and she handed the doctor her phone. John's eyes remained fixed on the outside of the cage which was not covered by the curtain as he gulped loudly.

"What do you see, John?"

"Nothing...we can hear it, Sherlock...you need to come and get to us..."

"Where are you?"

"In the basement," John squeaked. "You need to get here now."

"I will," Sherlock told him. "Just try to keep quiet and tell me what you see."

"It's coming closer," John muttered and Alison shook her head, unable to believe what was happening to the pair of them. "It's here...oh God Sherlock...I can see it...I can see it..."

Alison risked looking away from John and to the outside of the cage and she saw the glowing red eyes. She saw them as clear as day and she began to cry as John hyperventilated down the phone. But before anything else was to happen there was the sudden break of light and then Sherlock's face was at the cage, looking at the pair of them.

"Are you alright?" he asked and Alison moved from John, standing up and moving out the cage, grabbing onto her father with haste and continuing with her crying whilst John shook his head, his hands on his hips.

"No!" He snapped at Sherlock. "We saw it...it was there..."

"I know," he nodded at them. "I know."

...

"You need to calm down, Alison," Sherlock told his daughter as they stood in the toilets. Sherlock remained stood near the door as Alison bent over the sink, retching noises coming from her throat as she did so and Sherlock looked at her.

"I...it was a Hound dad...in this building...why can't we go?"

"We need to find something out first," Sherlock told her and she shook her head, her face pale and her hair matted to her face. Sherlock had never felt so bad and there had been many horrid things he had done.

"I can't," she gasped. "I can't...how can you be so calm?"

"Because I didn't see anything," he informed her.

"But John did and he seems to have calmed down," she pointed out. "Why is it me who is like this dad?"

"Please can we go?" Alison begged her father. "I want to go home...I just don't want this..."

Alison sunk to the floor beside the sink, her head going into her hands as she bent her knees up and Sherlock looked at her. He remained stood up, looking at her with his arms folded.

"Come on, Alison. It won't get to you again," he assured her.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"I'm your father," he said. "I know these things."

"We can be on the first train home tomorrow dad," she spoke.

"After I have done here I will take you back to the hotel and you don't need to come with us anymore," Sherlock promised her. "Now come along, Alison."

Alison still didn't move and she sniffed loudly, wiping her eyes quickly as Sherlock sat beside her against the cold tiled wall and looked down at her.

"Come on," Sherlock said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she leant into him.

"I've just never been so scared," she told him.

"You've seen much worse," Sherlock said to her and she shook her head again.

"And I get a feeling I will see much worse in the future."

Sherlock remained silent, knowing she was speaking of Moriarty and he shrugged awkwardly with her in his hold.

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," he simply spoke. "I am sure we can get one over on him."

"Really?"

"Yes," Sherlock nodded at his daughter. "Now come along, Alison...please...I promise nothing else will happen."

Sherlock stood up, offering his hands to help Alison up and she took them; shaking as she did so and Sherlock saw her whole body tremor with adrenaline.

"Come here," he simply spoke, wrapping his arm around her waist and helping her to move out the bathroom. Sherlock Holmes had never felt that terrible before. But after seeing Alison so fragile he felt horrific.

...

A/N: Thank you guys to all of the support! I am dreading writing 'The Reichenbach Fall' because we all know what happens at the end but it shall be out soon! So until the next update please do leave a review! Thank you!


	27. Chapter 27

"Nothing!" Sherlock roared as Alison sipped on the water for her nerves and John rested a hand on her back, running it up and down her jacket to calm her down but it wasn't working that well. Sherlock threw the lump of sugar against the wall and shook his head, his hand running through his hair, frantically walking back and forth. "There is nothing in this from Knight."

"So you actually perform genetic mutation experiments?" Alison checked as Sherlock began to mutter to himself and Alison shook her head as Dr Stapleton nodded.

"Of course," she said. "We need to know what can happen."

"Why do we?" Alison replied. "It is animal cruelty."

"Out!" Sherlock suddenly yelled. "I need everybody out!"

"The mind palace," Alison and John huffed and left the room with the woman in two who was clearly in confusion.

...

"It's Liberty In," Sherlock stated ten minutes later when he stormed out the room and Alison followed her father as he stormed into Major Barrymore's office and switched his computer on. "It is Liberty in Indiana."

"What does that have to do with anything?" John wondered and they looked at Stapleton who shrugged lightly.

"I can help," she simply told Sherlock who eyed her suspiciously. "I won't mention this to anyone."

"I need to you to log into the database," Sherlock demanded from her and she nodded, sitting down at the computer desk and typing quickly. "I'm blocked from the CIA database."

"So I imagine it is only Major Barrymore who can get in?" John asked and Sherlock nodded, looking through the desks of the Major's office and seeing what the password could be.

"What was he like?" Sherlock asked Stapleton.

"You've met him," Stapleton snorted.

"Tell me."

"Well he is brute, curt too...old fashioned," she said to Sherlock and he nodded, looking at his bookshelf and the smiling to himself.

"He has the Downing Street Years...each volume from Margaret Thatcher. He thinks highly of her."

Sherlock began to type over Stapleton's shoulder on the keyboard and then shook his head, rewriting the password which allowed them into the database. And from then on everything made sense.

"H.O.U.N.D." Sherlock shook his head. "It was a military project...aimed at creating a chemical weapon which makes the brain hallucinate."

Alison remained quiet for a moment, taking in what Sherlock had just told her and she shook her head, turning red as she did so.

"We were hallucinating?" she checked with her father and he nodded and she then gasped. "That's why you were checking the sugar...you thought it was..."

Alison trailed off and Sherlock looked at her and he murmured his next sentence;

"But the sugar wasn't the drug."

"You thought it was," Alison accused him. "You thought it would make us see the Hound. You arsehole!"

Sherlock remained silent as did the other two whilst Alison stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her whilst John shook his head and Sherlock looked back at the computer screen and then back to the door.

"It is Frankland," Sherlock deduced and then stalked off from the room as John's cell began to ring. He looked once at the elevator and then opened the door to the stairwell, walking down the steps and out into the fresh air as he heard John following in his footsteps.

"Alison," Sherlock drawled when he saw the young girl leant against the car. He advanced towards her with his hand slightly outstretched and she raised hers to stop him from moving.

"Don't!" she snapped loudly. "You did that to us. You let me believe that there was a Hound! You lied to me dad...you saw how scared I was and you still lied. This was all a set up. That was why you gave me coffee this morning."

"I needed to make sure it wasn't just me," he told her. "But it wasn't even the sugar so it wasn't really me."

"You really don't get it, do you?" Alison snapped at him. "You lied."

"I would never have put you in danger Alison-"

"-But it's fine to let me believe I am?" she checked.

"Sherlock!" John suddenly yelled and ran to the two of them.

"Not now, John," Sherlock muttered.

"Sherlock!"

"I said not now!"

"It's Henry. He attacked Dr Mortimer and he has a pistol. He just ran away."

"Call Lestrade and tell him to go to the hollow," Sherlock demanded and unlocked the car as Alison remained stood up and Sherlock looked at her as she looked anywhere but at him.

"Come on Alison," he said softly and she did as he had asked, clearly moody with him but Sherlock didn't care at that moment in time.

...

"Oh my God," Alison spoke as she ran down the hill to the hollow, almost falling over her own feet as John grabbed onto her arm and helped her to stand upright. Sherlock saw Henry with his gun in his mouth and Sherlock moved to him, speaking calmly and explaining what was going to happen whilst John stood back with his arm around Alison's waist, ready if anything was to happen.

"You don't want to do this Henry. Frankland has you believing in this but none of it is real," Sherlock assured him. "You know I am speaking sense. He thought it would be better to have you seen as insane rather than to have the truth come out."

Henry slowly began to calm down, his breathing shallow as Lestrade moved into the hollow, stood beside John before they heard a large howling noise and looked up to the ledge of the hollow.

"No!" Henry yelled out and he saw the hound once more.

"It isn't a giant hound, Henry," Sherlock told him. "It is just a stray dog...the chemicals in here are playing with your mind due to the pressure pads. It is just a dog."

"It's the hound," Alison whispered and John realised he had to keep her quiet or she may just make Henry turn into a worse state than he was.

"No, Alison," John told her, his arms moving around her as she tucked her head beneath his chin. "It isn't the hound. It is just your mind playing tricks on you."

"But it is there!" she snapped as a loud voice yelled out.

"Kill the dog!"

John reached for the gun he kept in his pocket as Lestrade did the same thing. The shots fired out the barrels and then whimpers were heard from the dog.

"You did this to me!" Henry yelled and Alison saw Frankland on the ground, his neck in his hands whilst he pushed the man off from him.

"I did what I had to," Frankland told them. "I had to do this...Your father died because he hit his head on a rock. I couldn't tell them the truth. I just couldn't."

And then he took off. Sherlock and Lestrade set off in pursuit with Henry behind them with haste. John let go of Alison, looking down at her and the nodding in the direction which the others had ran off to.

"You okay to go?" he asked and she nodded and they both began running through the woods. There was no denying that John was faster than Alison and he managed to leave her behind. Alison tripped over a stump of a tree, falling flat onto her face and dirtying the clothes which she wore. As she tried to stand she realised her ankle wouldn't hold her weight and she fell back to the floor, tears in her eyes. She heard a large explosion and sighed once. Waiting for someone to realise she had gone.

...

Sherlock rushed back through the trees, his flashlight in front of him as John took Henry back home. He eventually found her sat in the mud and crying, dropping to his knees beside her, he took her hands from above her ankle and looked at it for himself.

"You're going to need to not look at it," he told her, grabbing onto his phone and dialling for an ambulance as Alison tried to peer at it and Sherlock stopped her. "I said don't look, Alison."

"What is it?" she asked her father. "It really hurts."

"I know," he told her, seeing the bone out of place and gulping loudly once as Alison began to wail. "I'm going to have to pick you up and it could hurt, okay, Alison?"

"No," she complained. "I can't...I don't want to..."

"You have to, Alison," Sherlock said, dialling for an ambulance and hastily giving them the details of the main road he knew he could reach if he was quick.

"Come on," Sherlock said, grabbing her under her knees and around her waist. "Take a deep breath, Alison."

"Ow!" she yelled out as Sherlock picked her up into his arms and her ankle dangled down.

"Sh, sh, sh," Sherlock soother her as she rested her head onto his shoulder, crying loudly as Sherlock shook his head, kissing her on the top of the head. "You'll be fine, Allie...you'll be fine...I'm here..."

As soon as Sherlock reached the main road he heard the ambulance approaching and Sherlock moved into the vehicle with her as she laid on the bed, oxygen being given to her to ease the pain as the paramedic told Sherlock she would need to be operated on in order to set the bone back again.

"You're going to be okay," Sherlock told Alison as she rushed through the corridors of the hospital to the operating room and he nodded once when he was not able to go any further with her. Sherlock paced up and down the waiting room after being made to fill forms out for Alison and he phoned John, telling the doctor of what had happened before he went back to his silent waiting. Sherlock even called Mycroft, making the man phone the hospital to get his daughter a side ward. Sherlock knew that if she was put onto a ward then he would not be able to hold his tongue and would have said something he'd regret. Well, Alison would have been annoyed.

It was around three in the morning when Alison was placed into the ward, still sleeping from the sedative as Sherlock settled down in the chair by her bed, watching her sleeping.

"You shouldn't really stay overnight, sir," the nurse told Sherlock.

"I would much prefer to be here when she wakes up," Sherlock said to her. "I am not doing any harm here anyway."

The nurse pursed her lips and nodded once at Sherlock as the detective leant back, his hand clasped together. He didn't sleep that night. It must have been his parental instinct keeping him up.

...

A/N: Reichenbach next and I have major ways which Alison is going to be involved! I hope to have another update sometime tomorrow but until then do review!


	28. Chapter 28

"You know that you can speak to me," Sherlock stated the next day once Alison, he and John were in the car and on the way back to London. Mycroft had sent down a private car as John sat in the front seat and Alison in the back with Sherlock. She had come around from the operation feeling relatively fine apart from remembering that her own father had lied to her. The bottom half of her leg was in pot and she had to use crutches for another six weeks. It was safe to say she was going to be fed up within a week of being stuck in 221 B under Sherlock's watchful gaze.

"I don't want to," Alison told her father like a sulky child and Sherlock sighed lightly, resting his hands in his lap and then turning to look out the window as Alison risked a glance at him, realising her anger was going to slowly subside.

"I know what I did may be seen as cruel," Sherlock told her. "I just needed to make sure I wasn't going mad and that there was in actual fact no hound."

"It doesn't excuse the fact I'm still angry with you."

"John has calmed down."

"John knows better than to be angry with you," John piped up from the front seat. "He also knows that you won't apologise."

"Not to you," Sherlock snorted. "I have told you, Alison, that I am sorry."

Eight weeks later

"The Reichenbach hero," Alison chuckled as she read the paper; three weeks after her eighteenth birthday had passed with little interest. The weeks had passed by quickly and she may as well have been kept prisoner in the flat. Sherlock wouldn't allow her out and her leg was still in pot after she had been informed it needed another few weeks to set. Sherlock was sprawled out on the sofa, his hands holding the paper and he snorted once and shook his head.

"Did I get a mention?" John exclaimed, rushing into the room as Alison read through the paper and Sherlock chuckled, dropping the paper onto his stomach.

"Page four on line nine," Sherlock stated and John peered over Alison's shoulder and began to read through the lines of black and white and his mouth dropped quickly.

"Bachelor?" he exclaimed. "Bachelor, John Watson!"

"So you get to be a bachelor and he gets to be the Reichenbach Hero...quite the duo, aren't you?" Alison couldn't help but laugh and Sherlock rolled his eyes whilst John walked about the flat, muttering the word 'bachelor' an awful lot. "They also have the picture of you in the hat in here."

"What?" Sherlock snapped, leaping to his feet and grabbing it from her hands, looking at the photo and shaking his head, screwing the paper up.

"I hadn't finished reading that!" Alison complained.

"You have now," he muttered and John went back to looking in other papers, searching for his name anywhere.

"What is this anyway?" Sherlock wondered, grabbing the hat, pacing up and down with it in his hands whilst Alison looked on at him, pondering if he had gone mad. "Why does it have these flaps? What is the point?"

"Oh my God," Alison complained as Sherlock messed around with the deerstalker in his hands and John shook his head.

"Bachelor!" he yelled. "They all think I'm a bachelor!"

"You are," Alison pointed out and John pointed at Sherlock with his finger.

"We need to be more careful," John demanded from the man and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Since when did you care about what people thought?"

"Since now," John decided. "Alison is in here too."

"What?" Alison snapped, wanting to jump up but deciding not to due to the fuss which her father would make.

"It says here: 'The life of Sherlock Holmes is one which not many people know about apart from bachelor John Watson'" John paused for a moment, swearing under his breath, "'and his simple waitressing daughter, Alison Holmes."

"Simple waitress!" Alison snapped out loud. "They called me a simple waitress!"

"You are," Sherlock told his daughter as she turned a slight shade of red.

"I don't need to be told about it in the paper!"

...

"You cannot go rushing about, Alison," Sherlock snapped at her one week later as she climbed from the cab and stood on the solid ground as Sherlock rushed over to her, his hands by his side, ready to catch her if she fell due to the weakness of her ankle. "Your ankle is still weak."

"I'm fine," she promised her father, hobbling slightly as she assured him and he pursed his lips. "I can manage."

"No you can't," Sherlock decided and grabbed her round the waist, helping her into the building before gently helping her up the stairs where they saw John sat, his face looking solemn and his mobile in his hands, clutched against his cheek as he looked at Sherlock and Alison. Sherlock nodded once, fully understanding what was going on and Alison remained clueless until Sherlock muttered the simple words she didn't want to hear;

"He's back."

...

"How can he possibly break into Pentonville Prison, The Tower of London and the Bank of England?" Alison wondered whilst Sherlock text the barrister who wanted him to testify at the trial. Sherlock had been quiet for a while and John had not known what to say to anyone and so instead he went to do the shopping for the nearly empty fridge.

"I don't know," Sherlock admitted to her. "I will find out though. I doubt it can be too hard."

"This is ridiculous," Alison complained and Sherlock nodded.

"I couldn't agree more. He's playing a game and it is one of lies and deceit," Sherlock told her. "He wants me to come out and play."

"And you will, won't you?" Alison said, asking the question which she knew the evident answer to. Sherlock looked at her. Her face was so full of innocence and worry. It wasn't something Sherlock was used to seeing.

"I feel as though I must," he whispered back to her and she nodded.

"Why am I scared when I know he is probably going to jail?" Alison asked, a high pitched laugh leaving her mouth which went a few octaves higher than a normal person's would.

"We're both worried."

...

"There is a flock of press out there," John told Alison and Sherlock as he peered through the curtain in the morning and Sherlock looked at his daughter.

"I shall be back soon," he told her. "Don't open the door to anyone and don't leave the flat."

"Why do you even have to give evidence?" Alison asked. "You've only known Moriarty for five minutes."

"And in that space of time he managed to nearly kill you and blow up John." Sherlock said quickly. "I think we have a deep type of history."

"Well...can you just try not to be...well..."

"Myself?" Sherlock checked with her and she smiled lightly but nodded.

"We had best be going, John," Sherlock said after checking the watch on his wrist and he nodded once at Alison before he led John out of the flat and down into the mass hysteria of people. Alison looked onto it through the window before the crowds of photographers followed the moving vehicles. Alison turned the TV on to help clear her mind but she found her father's face splattered on every station. The court case of the year was what they were calling it.

...

"He's not guilty!" John snapped down the phone and Sherlock closed his eyes, his breathing slightly shallow as he didn't listen to John down the phone anymore and instead he hung up, placing it onto the arm of the sofa and then sitting up, grabbing onto his violin and resting it onto his shoulder, starting to play it with the bow. He knew Moriarty would come and see him. He couldn't resist the chase.

...

Alison walked down Baker Street after being allowed to leave work early that morning due to her ankle playing her up slightly. As she opened the door she heard her father's screeching violin move down the stairs and into her ears. As she shut the door she felt something block it. Blinking quickly she opened the door and saw the smiling face of Jim Moriarty.

"Miss Holmes," he smirked at her and she backed away from the door whilst Moriarty stepped inside. "How very nice to see you again."

"No," Alison shook her head as she heard the violin stop playing. "You're supposed to be in jail!"

"That doesn't happen when I'm found not guilty," Moriarty told her.

"Alison," Sherlock's voice spoke deeply from the top of the stairs and he nodded at her once, indicating for her to come up the steps which she did with haste, stepping behind her father as Moriarty remained at the bottom of the steps. Sherlock turned around, leading Alison back into the living room, his mouth close to her ear;

"Don't panic," he told her. "Just don't say anything to him."

"Are you forgetting he tried to drown me?"

"I know," Sherlock said, his hand grabbing onto her wrist in a soothing manner but also one where he could check her pulse which was running high. "But I am here and nothing will happen to you."

"Interesting place," Moriarty's voice suddenly said as he stood in the doorway of the living room. "It doesn't have much of a feminine touch though."

"The kettle has just boiled," Sherlock stated.

"Hm," Moriarty said, picking up an apple and a knife to go with it as Sherlock pointed to a seat and Alison remained stood by her father before he sat down opposite Jim, crossing his legs and Alison sat down on the chair at the desk, her eyes never leaving Moriarty as he continued to stare at her father.

"Are you surprised I managed to become acquitted?" Moriarty asked Sherlock who shook his head.

"Nothing about you surprises me about you," he told him.

"Are you not impressed as to how I did it, Sherlock?" he wondered. "And if you're not impressed than Alison surely must be."

"Well tell us how you did it and then you can impress us," Sherlock decided.

"Oh," Moriarty drawled, "you don't know how I did it, do you? But it pains to you to say I don't know, doesn't it?"

"I don't know," Sherlock said and Jim chuckled once, carving something into the apple he had in his hands.

"Very good," he said. "Very good indeed. It wasn't difficult. I will be honest...a few bits of key code and the world can be mine."

"You were showing off," Sherlock whispered lightly. "You were showing the world what you can do."

Alison remained silent, dreading the thought of Moriarty becoming even more powerful than he already was and she shook lightly as Moriarty chuckled and looked at the young girl.

"It seems my power is affecting someone," he grinned.

"You're trying to attract a new client base," Sherlock muttered.

"It has worked so far," Moriarty nodded. "This is my story, Sherlock."

"I never liked stories," Sherlock spoke to him.

"Well you're in mine," Moriarty whispered lightly. "You and your little pet and daughter. And every fairytale needs a bad guy."

"And that's going to be you, is it?" Alison simply spoke and Moriarty nodded, standing up and resting his apple onto the table before he began to move to the door.

"I think I fit the role of a bad guy perfectly," he whispered to the pair of them. "I shall be seeing you both soon then for the final fall."


	29. Chapter 29

"Professional killers!" Alison snapped at John that evening when he had told them of what Mycroft had said and Sherlock shook his head with haste, unable to believe what was going on at the moment.

"He says they are all over Baker Street," John told her and Sherlock chuckled once, shaking his head as he did so.

"And what is so funny?" Alison snapped at her father who looked at his laptop screen and shook his head with haste before they heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Sherlock looked on as Lestrade strode into the room, his face red with rushing and Donovan moved into the room, her arms folded and her face was stern.

"There has been a kidnapping," Lestrade spoke. "The Ambassador's children have been kidnapped for the US."

"Right," Sherlock nodded, grabbing onto his coat and shrugging into it with haste before he passed Alison her jacket and she moved into it and John stood up as Donovan snorted.

"And it takes all of you to come and solve this, does it?" she snapped and Lestrade narrowed his eyes at her, silencing her with her one glance as they moved out of the flat.

...

"Just...stay here," Sherlock told his daughter as he saw the woman in charge of the boarding school and he knew he would have to use a direct tactic which Alison would snap at him for. He rushed over to the sobbing woman, his hands on his hips as he looked at her, his eyes narrowed and he began to yell at her for allowing a student to be let out of her sight. Once he was satisfied she was telling the truth he ordered for Lestrade to give her a bag to breathe into. Alison had managed to gain the gist of what her father had said and she narrowed her eyes at him and she shook her head.

"That was harsh," she informed him.

"It was direct," he contradicted, following Lestrade up to the rooms which the boys shared and he settled himself onto his knees, examining the child's bed and looking underneath it.

"Go out into the hall and shut the door," Sherlock demanded Lestrade who did as he was asked.

"John, hit the lights," Sherlock then demanded from the man as Alison remained stood up, wondering what he was doing and so Sherlock explained. "If you were alone in the dark and saw someone outside your bedroom door then you wouldn't just lay here if you were a young boy."

"Well what would you do?" Alison asked, noting the spy books around the room as Sherlock told John and Lestrade to stop what they were doing.

"It's invisible ink," Alison told her father, grabbing onto a bottle and showing him. "It's what we used during those secret diary stages...but it is half empty too."

"We need Anderson!"

...

"We cannot get anything from this," Anderson told Sherlock who stood up straight looking straight ahead before looking at the forensic investigator and he nodded once.

"Brilliant, Anderson," he nodded. "You've got it completely wrong once again."

"You can tell the size of his feet and the way he walks," Alison informed them and Sherlock nodded in agreement, dropping to his knees and using his hands to scrape up particles from the shoe before John bent over him, coughing once as he did so.

"Wipe the smirk off your face. It is a crime scene."

"Right," Sherlock nodded once and sternly. "Got it."

"Good," John said and he stood up straight again, looking at Lestrade before he looked at his watch.

"I'm going to take these samples back to Barts to see if I can find anything," he told the Detective who nodded; his hands on his hips as he sweated slightly.

"I need you to solve this one Sherlock," he pleaded in a quiet voice. "I have a lot riding on this case."

...

"I need you to check these," Sherlock told John and Alison, handing them particles. "Run them into the computer and check what they come up against."

John and Alison moved across the lab, standing by the white worktop as Molly Hooper moved around, pouring chemicals into Petri dishes whilst Alison and John went to work about what Sherlock had told them to do.

"You remind me of my dad," Molly told Sherlock. "He's dead now...oh...sorry..."

"You don't need to make conversation Molly," Sherlock drawled, his eyes still looking into the microscope as Molly remained silent for a moment and she bit her bottom lip before speaking again.

"My dad was sad when he thought no one was looking," Molly told Sherlock who sighed once again, wishing she wouldn't make conversation with him but she insisted on it. "You look sad when you think Alison and John aren't looking."

Sherlock finally looked at her and then looked at John and Alison who were speaking to each other in hushed tones and he then looked back at Molly.

"You can see me," he simply said and she shook her head.

"I don't count," she spoke. "But...if there is anything you ever need...anything at all...I am here, Sherlock."

"What," Sherlock began, his brows furrowed together as he wondered what to say, "would I need from you."

"Anything," Molly shrugged. "You should probably just say thank you."

"Thank you?" Sherlock spoke and Molly nodded.

"I'm off for some crisps. Do you want anything? No. You won't. Forget it."

"Actually-"

"-No you don't."

...

"I suppose it is good that you're homeless network is so fast," Alison told her father who nodded once as he looked out the window and Alison did the same, tired after spending most the day in a laboratory. Sherlock was silent, wondering what was going on with Moriarty. He had done well to find the children in an abandoned sweet factory before he looked at Alison.

"Which fairytale is to do with breadcrumbs?" he asked his daughter.

"Hansel and Gretel," she said without hesitation. "By the Grimm Brothers. Do you think that is why he left you that book?"

"I know it is," Sherlock whispered before Donovan came out the interview room.

"The pro's are finished here," she snapped. "Just don't be yourself, the child is still upset."

"She's right," Lestrade agreed. "Just don't say anything like you normally would."

Sherlock nodded sternly, moving into the room where they had just come out and he looked at the little girl.

"I'm-" he began but she began to scream loudly. Sherlock jumped back as John and Alison stood outside the room, the sound of screams moving through the rooms.

"Out!" Lestrade snapped at Sherlock as he dragged the detective from the room where the girl continued to scream.

"What was that about?" Alison asked as Sherlock stormed out and over to the stairwell, looking out the window and seeing it across the street. 'I OWE YOU'. No one else saw it as they struggled to keep with Sherlock and his pace, moving as fast as they could until they came onto the street.

"Dad," Alison spoke, grabbing onto his arm and stopping him as he hailed a cab.

"Get into the cab," he demanded her and turned to look at John.

"This is ours," he said simply to John.

"What? Why?"

"I said so," Sherlock told him and climbed into the cab, shutting the door as Alison watched John walk down the street.

"Why didn't John come?" she asked her father who remained unresponsive. "Dad!" she finally snapped. "What is going on?"

"I don't know," Sherlock admitted, his breathing deep and Alison grabbed onto his wrist, checking his pulse. It was far too high for him. Alison looked into his eyes and he looked into hers. He was scared. He was genuinely scared and lost. Before Alison could say anything else, the TV in the back of the cab started to become alive and Sherlock sighed, closing his eyes in frustration.

"Can you turn that off please?" he snapped at the driver but it kept playing. "I said turn it off!"

"Dad," Alison whispered, making him look at the screen which showed Moriarty's face. It was clear as day as he finally stayed on the screen and they looked on in wonder as he began to speak.

"Everyone likes stories, don't they?" he checked. "This is a story about a knight who became completely annoying to everyone in the Baker Street Castle. He was beginning to become too big for his boots. And then there was the damsel in distress who was constantly with him, never leaving his side which made it difficult for the bad Lord to do what was needed of him and destroy Sir Boast-a-lot. But in this fairytale there are to be no happy endings. Happy endings aren't needed for this because Sir Boast-a-lot had been lying to everyone about his stories which he had told. He had been doing it to become the best person in the land and no one believed him in the end...not the king ...and not even the damsel."

And then the screen began to fade. Sherlock grabbed onto Alison's hand with haste, knocking on the window of the cab driver.

"Stop the cab!" he snapped. "Stop the cab right now!"

What was asked of the driver did happen and Sherlock jumped from the vehicle, Alison by his side as he wrapped an arm around her waist, looking at the driver.

"What was that?" he roared in frustration. "What just happened?"

"No charge," the driver spoke, a smirk on his face as Sherlock realised it was Moriarty and the cab sped off, Sherlock charging after it whilst Alison remained stood still, looking on for a moment before a car whizzed past her and she looked on in horror as it advanced to her father. Before she had a chance to do anything a man rushed out, knocking Sherlock to the floor as Alison ran over to them, helping her father up from the floor as the man looked at Sherlock.

"Thank you," the detective said, offering his hand out and the man took it, shaking it slowly before loud shots were heard through the street. Sherlock let go, grabbing onto Alison and holding her to him, turning her away from the sound of the shots before he looked onto the corpse of the man who had just saved him.

"Are you alright?" he checked with his daughter and she nodded, pushing her hair from her face as a sudden voice yelled Sherlock's name.

"He couldn't even touch me," Sherlock muttered to himself as John ran to the pair of them.

...

"I am the main focus," Sherlock decided, sitting down on the chair at his desk and looking at his laptop. "All of these men are after me but why? That is the question."

"And what do you think is going to happen?" Alison asked and Sherlock ran his hand on the desk, smirking as he did so.

"Dust is going to be disturbed. John, go and fetch Mrs Hudson."

John did as he was asked with no hesitation whilst Sherlock stood up, moving around the flat; his hand running along the shelves as Alison folded her arms and looked at him.

"You do realise this is becoming ridiculous?" she checked with her father. "Moriarty is becoming too dangerous."

"That is why I am trying to stop him," Sherlock told Alison as Mrs Hudson entered the flat.

"What do you need to know?"

"I need to know what has been dusted in this room," Sherlock told her. "I need to see where the dust lines have been broken."

"Dust?" she checked.

"Yes," Sherlock said, raising his finger after he had ran it over the top of the TV to show her the white fluff. "Dust. It is beautiful and glorious."

"Has he gone mad?" the woman muttered to John.

"Possibly."

"We're being watched," Sherlock declared, standing on the chairs and moving over the fireplace whilst Mrs Hudson shuddered.

"I'm in my dressing gown!" she gasped, rushing off again as Sherlock rolled his eyes and pulled something out from the bookshelf with haste, looking at it with a gleam in his eyes before footsteps came up the steps.

"No, detective," Sherlock spoke out as they saw Lestrade at the doorway, his hands in his pockets.

"I haven't even asked the question," Lestrade huffed.

"I'm not coming with you to the station so don't even bother asking," Sherlock told him and Alison's eyes went wide.

"Why would he take you there? How can you arrest him?" she asked and Sherlock looked at her again.

"I am guessing Donovan managed to persuade him that it was me who staged the kidnapping and that is why the little girl screamed when she saw me."

"No," Alison shook her head with haste. "It was Moriarty. It has to be."

"Exactly," Sherlock mused. "He's becoming good and now you have that idea in your head, don't you, Lestrade?"

"Will you come?" he asked Sherlock who sat back down at his desk, shaking his head.

"No," he said. "If I go then he has that one photo of me being dragged away. He will have destroyed me and this is a game I am no longer interested in playing. But you may say hello to Donovan."

"Since when did you care about public image?" John asked the detective as Sherlock played on his laptop and Alison settled on the edge of the desk, sighing loudly and looking back at Sherlock.

"I studied AS Law," she informed her father. "It is standard procedure for them to come back and arrest you."

"I know," Sherlock replied.

"He's going to ruin you," John suddenly blurted out. "I don't want the world thinking you're a...a fake."

"Don't you see what is happening?" Sherlock suddenly burst out leaning back in his chair. "Moriarty is getting to you too! You believe them! Can you not see what is going on?"

"I know you're for real," John told him. "No one can fake being such an annoying bastard all the time."

"Thank you very much," Sherlock muttered and Alison stood up, not wanting to listen to their bickering and moving into the bathroom. Sherlock finally shut his laptop down, closing the lid before Sherlock looked at John.

"When they come to arrest me then I need you to look after Alison," Sherlock demanded from John. "She is an emotional wreck already and seeing me being dragged away in handcuffs won't help."

"Of course I will look after her," John said, offended Sherlock would even think he wouldn't but then the detective shook his head.

"If they manage to get me far enough into a police cell then I am not here John," he said dangerously. "I'm not here to protect her from Moriarty."

"You think he would come after her?"

"I can't see why he wouldn't."

...

"The police are on the way," John said half an hour later after Lestrade had called to tell him. "You can run."

"There's no point," Sherlock said standing up.

"Every officer who has annoyed you is on the way Sherlock," John said to him as Alison moved out of the kitchen as Mrs Hudson entered the room, handing them an envelope.

"He had a funny name, the man who delivered this...I think it was German."

John took the envelope from her as the doorbell began to ring and she moved off to answer it. Once the envelope was opened the gingerbread man was revealed.

"Burnt to a crisp," Sherlock muttered as John handed it to him and he looked at it before the doctor moved off to the commotion. Alison saw the flashing blue lights from outside and she moved into the living room as Sherlock looked at the gingerbread man and threw it onto the table.

"I don't even know what to say," Sherlock told his daughter, his face emotionless as he spoke.

"You don't need to say anything," Alison whispered back to him and Sherlock looked her in the eye and then outside before coming up with a plan.

"Punch John," he demanded from her and she frowned, her eyebrows raised.

"As much as I would love to sometimes, why would I?" she asked.

"So you can be arrested and Moriarty can't find you," Sherlock told her and she nodded, gulping as she did so and Sherlock grabbed his scarf, wrapping it around his neck before shrugging into his coat.

"Sherlock Holmes," Lestrade's voice spoke into the room, "I am arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping."

"This is stupid-"

"-It is fine John," Sherlock said back to his friend.

"No it isn't," John shook his head as Sherlock began to be cuffed and Alison looked around the room and then at John, her hands clenching into fists. "He isn't even resisting."

"Get him downstairs now," Lestrade demanded and Sherlock nodded at Alison as he was escorted from the room and the teenager looked at John who caught her eye and she suddenly punched him. She grabbed onto her fist as soon as she could and jumped around in pain as John held onto his cheek, his hand covering his eye as Lestrade grabbed Alison around the waist, stopping her from moving anywhere and he pulled out his set of handcuffs as John looked at the blonde.

"What the hell was that for?" he snapped at her as Lestrade sighed.

"I am sorry," she told John. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"An unprovoked attack?" Lestrade checked with Alison as he escorted her down the steps. "What brought that on?"

"I kind of felt like it," she lied to Lestrade who shook his head.

"I know you, Alison Holmes," Lestrade hissed. "You had a reason behind this."

Lestrade pressed Alison up against the police car next to her father and he looked at her and then down at her fist.

"You don't tuck your thumb into your fist," he said to her. "Leave it outside."

"I'll remember that the next time I punch someone," she muttered and Sherlock managed a small smirk as she felt his hand on hers and then the freedom of the cuffs on her wrist.

"Don't say anything," Sherlock demanded from her as he cuffed himself to her and leant into the police car, pressing a button inside of the car which caused a loud siren to go off in the entire officer's ears, making them double over to remove it. Sherlock acted quickly, grabbing onto a gun and backing away from the car with Alison attached to him as they saw John in cuffs moved out of 221 B and a bald man behind him clutching onto his nose.

"Ladies and Gentlemen get onto your knees!" Sherlock yelled at them but no one moved until he fired the gun in the air and Alison winced slightly.

"John, over here," Sherlock demanded and John moved over to them after taking the keys to his cuffs from the officer on the ground.

"Just so you know I am a hostage!" John yelled out.

"As is she," Sherlock motioned to his daughter.

"Are you crazy?" Alison asked her father as the three of them backed away down the street and Sherlock placed the gun at John's head.

"So what now?" John asked.

"We do what Moriarty wants. We become fugitives."

With no word of warning Sherlock took off from the scene as John un-cuffed himself and dropped the silver onto the ground.

"Alison, take my hand," Sherlock demanded from his daughter who did as he had asked and they ran off down the streets, seeing blue lights in front of them as Sherlock threw the gun to the floor and ran down an alleyway, stepping through puddles until he came to a large fence and began to climb over it, causing Alison to slam into it.

"Dad!" she snapped at him and he stopped but John nodded at him to keep going until he was over the fence. John placed his hands together and lowered himself down slightly.

"Just step on," he told Alison.

"Won't it hurt?"

"Do it, Alison!" Sherlock roared at her and she stepped onto the makeshift platform, allowing John to hoist her into the air until Sherlock lifted his arms out and helped her down the fence, running further down the alley and hiding around a corner as he heard sirens again.

"The police are after us and we're being followed," Sherlock said. "We need to jump in front of the bus."

"What?" Alison yelled as Sherlock ran onto the road and John stood back as the bus moved towards them and they were suddenly bowled over by a man in a hood before John pulled his gun out, pointing it at the man on the ground.

"What do you want from me?" Sherlock snapped at him.

"Moriarty," the man simply said. "He says you know the code."

"The code to what?" Sherlock asked but there were gunshots before he could answer. Sherlock stood up once again, helping Alison as they began to run down the streets, hiding in a corner somewhere and Sherlock took in deep breaths.

"Moriarty left me the code...the code to break into anywhere...that's how he managed it earlier. He gave it to me and they're all trying to keep me alive so they can find it out."

"And this does not look good," Alison murmured, picking up a discarded newspaper and showing her father.

"They've reported you're a fake," she whispered and Sherlock groaned.

"I need to go on the record this time."


	30. Chapter 30

"Kitty Riley," Sherlock nodded as he looked out of the window and saw her move from her car and he took a seat back onto her sofa as John undid the handcuffs on Alison's wrist by picking at the lock and Sherlock looked in the darkened room and then over at the pair of them before Kitty opened the door to her apartment and jumped back in shock once she hit the light and Sherlock cocked a brow at her;

"Is it too late to do an interview?" he wondered dryly and she shook her head, folding her arms as she dropped her bag to the floor and smirked proudly at Sherlock.

"You read my interview then?" she checked with him. "I gave you the chance to speak when you could."

"And you think this interview is an exposure to me?" Sherlock checked with her and she nodded simply.

"This whole thing is a fabrication, isn't it, Sherlock?" Kitty asked him and everyone remained silent as she continued to hiss quietly at Sherlock who began to stand up, straightening his coat out and looking at her in the eye. "I have spoken to the man who you made Moriarty. Richard Brook is his real name and you paid him to do all of this. You paid him to be a mastermind criminal."

"What?" Alison managed to spit out, her mouth dry as Sherlock simply said nothing. "This is bullcrap."

"Of course it is," John nodded in agreement, folding his arms. "Why would anyone assume this to be the truth? Who would pay for some criminal to attack people?"

"Richard is not criminal," Kitty replied. "He is an actor who has been paid to act as a criminal. And who would do this to someone? Someone who is not right in the head; that is who."

"Don't you dare," Alison hissed, her finger pointing at the woman as John grabbed onto her arm and stopped her from moving over to the woman and slapping her senseless. "This is all a lie!"

"Sherlock doesn't seem to be denying it," Kitty muttered but before Sherlock could say anything there was the noise of the door opening and he walked in. He walked in like he owned the flat, muttering under his breath about there being no eggs and then he saw the trio and dropped the bag onto the ground, falling against the wall, his hands raised in surrender.

"You said I was safe here!" Moriarty snapped as Kitty stood in front of him, protecting him from any advanced movement.

"You are," she promised him. "They're not going to hurt you. I have told them the truth."

"No!" John suddenly yelled. "It is all a lie! He strapped a bomb to me!"

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Moriarty shook his head. "You're a good man, Dr Watson."

"And drowning me?" Alison checked. "Why would my own father want that to happen?"

"I didn't stay long enough for it to happen," he shook his head. "I made sure you wouldn't die."

"I don't believe it," Alison said. "I don't believe any of it."

"You should," Kitty said and moved over to her coffee table, picking up a folder and showing John and Alison it which contained the life of Richard Brook.

"Just tell them, Sherlock," Moriarty demanded from the detective who was looking at him, his lips pulled up slightly at the corner in more of a look of hatred than anything else. "Tell them the truth...tell them you paid me to do this...just tell them...it can be over, Sherlock."

"No!" Alison suddenly yelled, throwing the file to the floor and looking at Moriarty. "You are Moriarty! You are!"

"He's lying," Kitty said, looking at Sherlock before Moriarty suddenly ran up the five steps to the higher floor and then out and into the bathroom. Sherlock and John chased after him, coming back down a moment later before Kitty looked at Sherlock with a smirk.

"I see straight through you, Sherlock Holmes," she drawled, "and you repel me."

John left through the door and Sherlock grabbed onto Alison's hand and dragged her from the room before she exploded at Kitty.

"So what now?" John asked as Sherlock hailed a cab quickly and opened the door.

"I am going to the lab," he said. "It is the only place I know I will be safe."

"I will join you soon," John nodded and Sherlock cocked a brow at him in wonder.

"And where are you going?"

"I need to go somewhere," John told him.

...

Sherlock sat in the lab of St Bart's quietly as Alison sat in the stairwell, her head resting against the cold painted wall to cool her down as Sherlock waited for Molly to walk through after going about her business.

"You were wrong," Sherlock stated when he saw the mortician turn the light off and she jumped slightly, looking back at Sherlock as he stood in his coat. "You do count."

Molly remained silent, looking at Sherlock as she saw red in the corner of his eyes, wondering if he had been crying and she moved her bag on her shoulder uncomfortably.

"I need your help, Molly." Sherlock told her. "I think I am going to die and I don't know what to do to stop it. I would understand if you didn't want to help me."

"What do you need?" she asked without a moment's hesitation.

"Are you sure?" he asked her and she nodded forcefully.

"Whatever you need," she promised him and he managed a small nod at her with a smile.

...

"What are you doing out here?" John asked Alison as he took the stairs up the lab in St Barts and saw her sat on them, her legs outstretched in front of her, her black flats on the edge of her toes and her jeans scuffed up slightly as she looked at John.

"My dad is in the lab. He's thinking and I needed some space. I needed time to think," she whispered and John sat beside her, his head tilting back as his hand moved up his neck and he soothed the area of tension. "Where did you go anyway?"

"I went to see Mycroft," he muttered.

"Why?" Alison asked and John shook his head. He didn't want to ruin Alison's vision of her uncle. He would tell Sherlock and if he wanted her to know then he could tell her. It wasn't in John's place.

"I tried to see if he could calm what is going on," he lied to Alison and she nodded, her cheek still resting against the cold wall.

"You don't believe any of this, do you?" she checked with John.

"No," he said quickly back to her. "I don't think any of it is true. He may enjoy the case but he would never do this to us. He isn't a fraud."

"I know," Alison muttered. "But...he's going to be in disgrace John. Once this lie comes out no one will ask for his help...no one will look at him the same way."

"It will ruin him," John agreed with her. "We just have to be there for him."

"I don't know how to be," Alison admitted. "I don't know what to say to him or what to do. He's on the run and is in the frame for multiple counts of crimes he didn't commit. I've lost my mum...I can't..."

"Sh," John soothed her as she began to sob softly and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, his hand pushing her blonde head to rest against his chest as she cried lightly, one of her arms wrapping around John's torso. "I don't know if it is going to be okay," John said to her, not bothering to lie to her because she needed to know how he felt too. "I'm scared too. I'm worried for him as well."

"It's all so unreal," Alison muttered, her breath tickling against John's shirt as he closed his eyes and sniffed loudly, his grip tightening on her.

"If it is any consolation," he whispered. "I'm here for you...I know it isn't the same as having Sherlock...but I am here."

...

Sherlock looked through the small glass pane of the window on the mahogany door as he sat in the quiet lab on a lab stool. He could see Alison and John holding onto each other and he gulped once. He knew what was going to happen and the thought scared him terribly. The thought was enough to make him worry more than he had ever worried before. A few moments later John stood up and helped Alison to her feet, his hand wiping her wet cheek before the two of them walked into the lab.

"Do you have any idea what the code could have been?" Alison asked her father.

"I don't know," Sherlock muttered, his eyes looking back at the white of the table as John leant against the white surface, his fingers tapping away at it as Sherlock's eyes went wide and he looked at John.

"If I know the code then that means I can change who Richard Brook is," Sherlock said. "He gave it to me by tapping John!"

"Tapping?" Alison wondered and John nodded.

"It would have been a Morse code," John told the girl who nodded, looking at her father whilst John sat on a bench.

"Do you know the code?" she asked him and Sherlock went back to looking at the way he tapped his fingers against his knee when he was in the apartment and he sighed once, slamming his fist onto the table which Alison took to mean no.

...

John's snoring echoed the room as his head rested against the worktop. He was drained and exhausted and Alison was on the same path as he was. Sherlock looked at her as she sat on the floor in the lab, her eyes dropping slightly and then opening and he joined her, settling beside her with his coat in his arms and he rested it onto his lap.

"You do know what this means, don't you?" he checked with his daughter and she nodded at him.

"You'll end up in jail," she whispered. "There is no way out of this."

"I know," Sherlock lied to her. "But whilst I am there then you won't cry over me, okay? You need to be strong about all of this."

"How can I be?" she asked him, looking into his eyes. "Moriarty has ruined you. The press will be all over it. Do you think life will ever be the same again?"

"No," Sherlock told her. "When the fuss has calmed down then things will be normal. They will be normal like they were before I became the detective in the funny hat and that's what you have always wanted."

"Back then you and mum were with me," Alison whispered. "Nothing is ever going to be normal."

"You have John," Sherlock told her and they both looked at the sleeping man and Alison began to deny anything before Sherlock shook his head;

"I know you still like him," he said. "I saw the two of you in the stairwell earlier...he...he's a good man, Alison. He's obviously not good enough for you but he's still okay. He will look after you."

"You don't mind?" she replied in a mutter and Sherlock shrugged.

"I suppose recent events have made me become not so blinkered," he replied to her.

"You can't hide in here forever," Alison told her father and he nodded in agreement.

"You are quite right," he said. "I think I can hide just for tonight though...my final night..."

"I love you, dad," Alison whispered, beginning to cry again as she moved against Sherlock's side and he stiffened at what she had said and her sudden movement. "I love you so much."

Sherlock took a moment to catch his breath before coughing once, allowing Alison to nestle into his lap and he wrapped an arm around her waist, remaining quiet as she continued to cry and he pressed his lips against the top of her head, wondering what he should do. But he found the silence much easier.

...

"Uh," John moaned, coming around from his sleep and sitting up straight, his back hurting him and his neck feeling tight before he looked at Sherlock who was awake with Alison sleeping in his arms, his coat covering her body as she breathed lightly, sleeping soundly. "What time is it?" he asked himself, checking his watch and then blinking quickly before he heard his phone go off and he checked the message, standing with haste and looking at the detective.

"Oh God," he complained. "Mrs Hudson...she's been shot...we need to get to the hospital."

"You go," Sherlock said to John. "I need to stay here."

"What?" John snapped and Alison stirred gently, nuzzling closer to her father. "You almost killed a man for laying a finger on her!"

"I can't go," Sherlock said sternly. "She is only my landlady."

"What?" John snapped at him. "You...utter...you machine! Fine. Stay here. I will go."

"Okay," Sherlock simply said to his friend and John rushed from the room, the door slamming behind him before Alison came around.

"What was all that shouting at John about?" she asked Sherlock and he shook his head.

"A misunderstanding," he simply told her and she slowly stood up due to the un-comfortableness of Sherlock's bony lap in the morning. Sherlock stood up and began to text Moriarty, waiting for him to reply before he poured Alison a glass of water as she held her head which was throbbing due to her previous nights crying. "Here," he said and handed her the glass of water before Moriarty text him back and Sherlock looked at it quickly as Alison drank her drink.

"Can you go down the reception and get Molly for me?" Sherlock asked Alison and she raised a brow.

"Why reception?" she asked her father.

"They will know which area she is working in. I can't go down after becoming a wanted man."

"True," Alison nodded. "Why do you need Molly?"

"I need Molly to escape," Sherlock lied to Alison. "She is supposed to have what I need."

"You're going on the run?" she asked Sherlock with a small gasp.

"Yes," he stated. "I decided jail was not for me."

"Okay," Alison nodded. "As long as you're sure."

"I'm positive."

...


	31. Chapter 31

Alison walked down the steps with haste and tried to go to reception but she was intercepted. She bumped into a burly man on her way and he grabbed her elbow and she looked up at him.

"Who the hell are you?" she snapped, his hands stopping her from struggling as he tried to drag her back up the steps with haste and she fought against him.

"There is no use in struggling against me," he told her. "Moriarty is quite keen for you to witness this considering Sherlock's little pet can't."

"What?" Alison snapped at him, moving up the steps without resisting, wondering what was going to happen. "What am I going to witness?"

"You'll soon see," he promised her. "Just stop fighting against me or I will kill you before we get to the roof."

Alison did what was asked of her reluctantly and he led her to the roof of the building. Alison's breath came out in deep pants due to the amount of steps and the worry of what was going to happen. Once they came to the door, he opened it up and Alison saw Sherlock stood in the centre of the roof and Moriarty was sat on the ledge, his phone in his hands as he looked at Alison and Sherlock followed his gaze.

"You shouldn't have sent her away, Sherlock," Moriarty told the man. "Trying to protect her from me isn't going to work. You should know that. Cuff her to the pipe."

The man did as he was told, moving handcuffs from the back pocket of his jeans and wrapping them around Alison's wrist and then pushing the other one to the silver pipe next to the door. She tried to move from it but found herself unable to do so as Sherlock stared back at her.

"You didn't need to bring her up here," Sherlock spoke lowly to Moriarty who shrugged once.

"I find it adds much more entertainment to this," he informed Sherlock once the man who had bought her to the roof was dismissed. "She needs to know what is going to happen, wouldn't you agree, Sherlock?"

"No," Sherlock snapped. "I know your plan and I don't want her here!"

"It isn't a case of what you want!" Moriarty yelled at Sherlock, standing up, his face close to the detectives. "It is a case of what is going to happen!"

"I can destroy you," Sherlock said to Moriarty, low and dangerously. "You gave me the code. What is to stop me from destroying Richard Brook and bringing Jim Moriarty back?"

Moriarty looked at Sherlock, making his bottom lip quiver before he laughed out loud, hitting his head as he did so and walking around the roof whilst Alison struggled to slip her hand from the cuff on her wrist, the metal clanking against the metal.

"There is no code doofus!" Moriarty yelled at Sherlock. "You really are boring, aren't you? I made the code up!"

"Then how-"

"-How did I break into all those places?" Moriarty finished off for Sherlock. "It only takes a few willing participants to get what you want!"

"But the court trial-"

"-Easy," Moriarty interrupted once again. "I broke into all those places. Do you think I couldn't break into a few hotel rooms and get them to do what I wanted? People are so easy to manipulate when you have their loved ones at risk."

"This is all a set up," Sherlock whispered, turning around quickly, his mind panicking as he wondered what was going to happen. His plan had failed.

"You have only just worked that out now?" Moriarty snapped. "I thought you were better than this. But you're ordinary. The problem with you, Sherlock, is that you think things through too deeply and you don't need to."

"So what now?" Sherlock asked him. "You think I will jump from this building because I am publically disgraced?"

"No!" Alison suddenly snapped at her father. "You can't!"

"He can," Moriarty said once Sherlock looked at his daughter as her blonde hair flew across her face and Moriarty chuckled.

"Because if he doesn't then I kill anyone he has," Moriarty said deeply. "Do you think I haven't thought this through?"

"No," Sherlock shook his head. "I know you have."

"Good," he said. "I have trained snipers aimed at everyone who has meant anything to you...but the most important one is right here with me," Moriarty said, his hand resting on the small of Alison's back as the girl shuddered and he drew a gun out from his jacket, pointing it at her forehead. "Now off you pop."

"No," Alison said, beginning to cry. "You can't do this!"

"He can and he will," Moriarty promised her, grabbing her hair and pulling it hard from her scalp as she yelped out in pain and Sherlock raised a hand up into the air.

"Don't!" he yelled. "Just don't hurt her."

"I won't if you jump." Moriarty promised.

"Okay," Sherlock nodded, standing on the ledge whilst Alison shook her head.

"Don't you dare!" she yelled at her father. "Don't you dare jump!"

"Daddy has to go now, Alison," Moriarty decided, chuckling deeply. "He's become too boring for the toy box and isn't worth playing with."

"Shut up," Alison snapped at him, moving her free hand into the air and forming it into a fist but Moriarty was faster, grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her back.

"Keep struggling and I break your wrist. Easy as A,B,C," he hissed into her ear and she cried out in pain and looked at her father as he stood on the ledge, looking onto the ground.

"You have an audience, Sherlock," Moriarty told him. "It is what you like best."

"No," Sherlock's deep voice responded and he jumped from the ledge, a grin on his face as Alison looked confused as to what was so funny. "I don't need to die," Sherlock sang, "as long as I have you."

Jim let go of Alison, walking into the middle of the roof and looking at Sherlock whilst Alison moved her arm straight, whimpering at the strength of Moriarty's grasp which had hurt her. Jim chuckled once and looked at Sherlock, the two men circling each other in an act of power.

"You have the code to call the snipers off," Sherlock said to Jim.

"You think I will do that?"

"I know you will," Sherlock decided and Moriarty shook his head.

"We are very much alike really, aren't we, Sherlock?"

"No," Alison shook her head and Sherlock agreed with her.

"We have similar minds," he whispered to Moriarty. "Without me then you have no one to equal you. You have no one to play this game with. You are willing to do anything and I am willing to do anything to get you to call the snipers off."

"Anything?" Moriarty checked with him. "And what does that mean?"

"It means that with our great minds we both know you will do as I ask you," Sherlock told him. "You will call this whole thing off and that will be the end of it."

"No," Moriarty decided. "I won't do that."

"You will," Sherlock told him.

"It is worrying how much we are similar Sherlock. I will do anything to make this event happen and you will do anything to stop it...so thank you...thank you for enlightening me..."

And then there was a loud bang as Moriarty placed his gun into his mouth and fell to the ground.

"No!" Sherlock yelled whilst Alison screamed in fear. Sherlock looked down at the dead man, his hands moving to his head as he bent over, wondering what was going to happen now. "No...God no..."

"Dad!" Alison snapped at Sherlock and he looked at her. "You can go...you can leave..."

"I can't," Sherlock coughed, moving over to her and she shook her head. "I can't call the snipers off now. They will kill you and everyone else I know."

"I don't care," Alison told Sherlock, beginning to cry softly. "I don't care at all...you can't die..."

"Neither can you or John," Sherlock told her sternly and Alison looked at him as he pulled his phone out and placed it to his ear, moving across the roof and looking at the edge of it, seeing John move out of a cab and then ducking down again so he couldn't see him.

"Where are you, Sherlock?" John snapped at him.

"Stay where you are," Sherlock demanded from him. "Just stay where you are."

"Why?" John asked, standing still but not knowing why. "What is going on?"

"Just don't move," Sherlock said to him. "This is my goodbye."

"What are you talking about?"

"I suppose normal people leave a note," Sherlock told John. "I leave a phone call. Of course, I have to be different."

"No," John shook his head. "What are you talking about Sherlock?"

"Everything which Moriarty said," Sherlock said, beginning to cry. "It was true."

"No!" John snapped down the phone. "It wasn't and you know it wasn't."

"It was," Sherlock told him as Alison listened in, unable to say anything as her throat wouldn't permit her through the coughing.

"The first time we met you told me about my sister," John said to him. "No one could fake that."

"I researched you, John," Sherlock sighed. "No one can be that clever."

"You can be."

"I can't," Sherlock replied, choking up once again. "I need you to tell anyone, John. I need you to tell anyone who will listen that I am a fake, do you understand?"

"Where are you?" John snapped, fed up with Sherlock's lie. "I'll come and get you."

"Stay exactly where you are!" Sherlock snapped and John did as was asked, annoyed but knowing it had to be important. "I shall come into view in a moment...I need to go, John...Alison...she's up on the roof of St Bart's...come and bring her down when this is over."

"What is going on?" John snapped again but Sherlock ignored his question.

"Promise me you will look after her, John," Sherlock demanded. "Just promise me that."

"I will always look after her," John said.

"Good," Sherlock whispered. "I shall see you in a moment. Do not move."

Sherlock threw his phone to the ground as it crashed into small pieces and Sherlock moved back to Alison who was shaking her head quickly at her father.

"You can't do this, dad," she sobbed and he looked at her, his hands moving under her elbows as her knees became weak and he lowered her to the floor and she sat on her knees as Sherlock did the same, his hands resting onto her cheeks as her free hand held onto his wrist. "Please don't do this...please...what will I do? Dad what will I do? You're not a fake. I know you're not..."

"I am," he said to her and she shook her head sternly.

"I know you," she snapped. "Don't lie to me about this...we won't believe you...just don't lie...please."

"Sh," he told her, wiping away her tears and resting his forehead against hers. "You have to know that I am so sorry Alison," Sherlock whispered. "I never wanted anything bad to happen to you. Never...you're my daughter and...and I am sorry..."

"Just don't do this," she cried and Sherlock ran a hand down her blonde hair slowly, smiling lightly.

"You look just like your mother," he told her. "I sometimes wonder if there is any truth in you being mine..."

"Dad," Alison sobbed again. "I love you daddy..."

"I know," Sherlock told her, his breath on her cheek, causing her to shudder. "I know I haven't been a good father to you but I only wanted the best for you...I only want to keep you safe...that is all I want to do..."

"He was wrong about you," Alison told her father. "You do have a heart."

"Not a big one," Sherlock whispered, kissing her cheek. "But I do have one. Look after John too...you both need each other..."

"I need you more," Alison pleaded with him and he closed his eyes, a tear rolling down his pale cheekbone before he kissed her on the forehead and he began to stand up. Alison grabbed onto the sleeve of his coat as she tried to stop him but he easily moved away from her and looked back at her as she stood up, grabbing onto the pipe for support and trying to move from the cuffs.

"I love you, Alison," Sherlock said to her which caused her to cry even more as he stood on the ledge of the building. He had never told her before and he chose now.

"I love you dad," she replied and John looked up to the building, his eyes transfixed to Sherlock as Sherlock gulped once, not looking back at Alison as he heard her loud scream of no on his plummet to the pavement.

"No!" Alison yelled again when she saw Sherlock out of vision. "No!"

She sunk to the ground, trying to pull the cuffs from her wrist but not managing to get anywhere. She sat on the concrete in the cold air for a while, crying to herself before she heard John come to the roof and even then she didn't register what he was doing as he undid the cuffs from her wrists and dropped them to the floor with the key he had found in Moriarty's pocket. He grabbed onto Alison as she did the same to him, pushing herself against him at the two stood of the rooftop and cried together.


	32. Chapter 32

John constantly sat in his armchair, looking across at the empty armchair which Sherlock occupied all the time. He rarely spoke and when he did it was only formalities. He had once argued with Mycroft who wanted to take Alison in and have her live with him but John had refused. He wanted to keep Alison with him which Sherlock had wanted and what she had wanted. As he sat there he barely registered Alison move over to him, settling herself into his lap and he kissed the top of her head gently. She had not said anything much to him but the two of them had sought comfort in each other. Alison lifted her head up, kissing John on the bottom of his jaw gently before he captured her lips into his own and kissed her deeply. Alison was the only thing which he needed. They were both grieving and made each other feel better slightly. Not a lot, but slightly.

...

Mrs Hudson and John stood two metres away from Sherlock's grave whilst Alison knelt in front of it after having been to visit her mother. The stone was simple black with just Sherlock's name on it and a small bouquet of flowers on the recently dug mud which Alison had bought. She knew Sherlock wouldn't have appreciated it that much but it made her feel better. Alison didn't even hear Mrs Hudson sniff and walk away but she simply bowed her head, a tear falling down her face as she spoke lightly, hearing John doing the same as her.

"I know you were lying," she said softly. "You weren't a fake despite what everyone now believes. I know you dad and I know you were genuine. You had to be...I just...I just wish you had said those words...before to me...before you had to...why couldn't you tell me you loved me before? Because...I love you dad...and I miss you..."

Alison felt a hand on her shoulder and she rested her own hand on top of it as John moved his thumb over her knuckle and she stood up, not taking her hand from John's as he looked at the grave, managing not to cry but his voice breaking as he spoke to Alison;

"We should go," he said. "It looks like rain."

...

The man with the grey coat stood in the trees, looking on at the two of them as they left his grave and he took in the sight. Alison's hand was in John's and John was walking tightly to her side before he gently kissed the back of her hand and allowed it to fall back to the side of them. Alison tucked a string of hair behind her ear as the man moved his coat collar up, taking in the sight and the emotions he allowed to run through him. He turned on his heel, sniffing loudly and then walking off, not sure when he would see the two of them again.

...

A/N: Finished! Anyway, thank you to everyone who has reviewed and read this and leave me one final thought on the story. AND...there may be a sequel in the near future if people are interested so let me know! And thank you very much to my reviewers!


	33. Chapter 33

"I hope this is to your taste," Mycroft spoke, his voice low and husky as he stood in the doorway, looking into the room, his eyes peering around as he looked at his new houseguest who had her bags on her shoulder and a case by her side and she nodded once, biting her lip slowly.

"It's nice," she muttered simply. "Thank you, Uncle Mycroft."

"It is fine," he replied back to her hastily and clapped his hands once, looking down onto his niece who was gazing into the room before she dared to move deeper into it, dropping her bags and crumpling the large duvet as she did so.

"It is better than nice, anyway," she assured him, managing to smile at her Uncle who nodded back at her, his lips remaining firm.

"I have work to do now anyway," he informed her, motioning down the hall. "Just make yourself at home and dinner shall be at six p.m."

"Okay," she said, making a mental note to remember the time as Mycroft shut the door on her and she sat on the bed, feeling it for a second. It was slightly hard and there were more cushions on it then Alison had ever seen in her life. She didn't want to sit there and think about the events of the last week. She knew she would cry. She knew she would break down as she crossed her legs and thought about things.

Sherlock had gone. He had jumped off the roof. He had left her. He had left John. She had left John. She didn't have a say to it though. She was under her Uncle's care even though her eighteenth birthday had past. It was Sherlock's wishes apparently. Until she was twenty one Mycroft had control of her funds. And there was no arguing with Sherlock.

John would be fine at 221B. He was strong. He had been a soldier and would manage to carry on with his life. Alison would still see him. She did feel something for him even if her Uncle frowned upon it. She needed to see him anyway. She needed to see that he was still managing to carry on with his life. They couldn't mourn Sherlock forever.

Sherlock may have wanted Alison to stay with John but he never did change his will to say otherwise. It was trivial and not his area. The Law as the law and it had to be upheld. And then Alison was grateful to leave Baker Street. A change of scenery would clear her head. Mycroft had already promised her that he could enrol her into a top college to complete her A Levels which she hadn't managed.

Sherlock would have wanted her to carry on. He would have wanted her to continue being boring and studious and it was what she now wanted.

...

"I was hoping to speak with you about college, Alison," Mycroft informed his niece later on at dinner. He was sat at one end whilst she was at the end of the table, pawing at her food with the silver fork and picking bits of chicken out from the salad. Mycroft was clearly dieting again.

"What about it?" she wondered aloud and Mycroft dropped his knife and fork, clasping his hands together and resting them onto the table, leaning forward and looking at her with narrowed eyes.

"Which subjects were you studying?"

"Politics, Geography and History. I dropped Law. It wasn't for me," she informed him and he looked slightly put out. How didn't he know that? He knew everything else including her cheating boyfriend and her bank account number.

"I see," he said. "And would you be happy continuing with them?"

"Yes," she said lowly, sipping on her water as she nodded.

"You start on Monday then," he said with a small smirk, going back to eating and Alison bit her tongue. Did she want to go back to college? Most of her friends would have left and it would just be her. A third year. Well, she didn't intend to argue with Mycroft and studying would take her mind off of...things..."

"You can also quit your job at the coffee shop," he said and she shook her head at him, putting her foot down.

"I like my job," she said hastily. "It pays well and I need the money."

"You don't need to worry about money, trust me," Mycroft said and Alison rolled her eyes slightly, shaking her head sternly.

"I want the job," she growled lowly. "I'm not quitting."

It was a distraction when she wasn't studying and she needed them. She needed them badly.

"Fine then," Mycroft said, eyeing her suspiciously and knowing why she was so persistent in keeping her job. "John tells me that 221B is becoming lonely."

"There's just him," Alison said lowly. "Of course it will be lonely. Can I be excused?"

"But you haven't finished your dinner," Mycroft pointed out, his eyes glittering dangerously at her and she remained silent as she stood up, tucking her chair under as she did so.

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat, Alison," he implored her.

"Dad didn't," she said in a soft whisper.

"And look where he ended up," Mycroft said, his eyes wide as he raised his brows, rolling the dark orbs afterwards and Alison felt a pang in her chest as she glared at her Uncle.

"I didn't-"

"-It's fine," Alison cut him off, scurrying from the room. "Just leave it."

...

It was ridiculous. Alison could hear him in her sleep. She was asleep and he was scolding her. She shouldn't be surprised.

She had gone to bed at eight o'clock after laying in the bath until it had turned cold. John had text her, asking if everything was okay in the palace of Mycroft and she had text back, imploring him that she was fine and he didn't reply. And so she had slept. Doing something she hoped would take her mind off of him.

But he was there.

He was sat on the sofa in 221B, his legs crossed beneath him and the laptop resting on his lap as she sat opposite him, hesitantly lowering herself into the plush leather seat.

"You do know that I'm not actually here, don't you?" he checked with her, managing to peer at her over the top of his laptop, his dark eyes resting on her and she looked back at him. "And besides, I'm disappointed in you. I thought your imagination would be able to come up with something much more fascinating than being here."

"You're gone," she said hoarsely. "You're not here...dad...you're..."

"Yes," Sherlock simply coughed, placing the laptop down and looking across at her as he clasped his hands together and he remained focused on her. "But this is your dream, Alison and I am apparently here so you're in control, you know that."

"I'm in control?" she wondered and shook her head, wishing that the dream was real; wishing none of this was fake. "You must hate that."

"I have to say it is not one of my finest desires," he mumbled back, standing up quickly and pacing up and down the coffee table, his hands on his hips on top of the purple shirt which he always wore.

"This isn't real," Alison said, looking around Baker Street and thinking as she did so. "None of this is real."

"You don't need to be a party pooper, Alison," Sherlock deadpanned with her, standing still and looking at her condescendingly. "You can't spoil your own party."

"Why did you do it?" she enquired from him and she stood up slowly, still watching her father. "Why did you jump?"

"You know why," Sherlock said deeply and she sighed once, wondering if her dreamt self could actually cry.

"I miss you," she admitted and Sherlock's gaze seemed to soften slightly at that. "I miss you so much."

"I know," Sherlock said back to her. "I can imagine living with the Princess of Perfect isn't fun."

"He cares in his own way. Just like you did," she said and Sherlock shuddered at the comparison.

"And John?"

"He's...coping," Alison said carefully. "I don't think staying in 221B helps him."

"No," Sherlock said, thinking about how humans were quite emotional.

"Do you want to know the worst part?" Alison whispered gently. "I know I'm going to wake up soon because I always do...and it will be back to how it was...everything...you..."

"I'm just a memory," Sherlock informed his daughter, looking at her apologetically. "I'm just a memory, Alison. I'm in your mind."

"That's the hardest part," Alison muttered. "I can't accept it, dad. I can't accept that you've gone...after everything...after all those things you've been through..."

"Alison," Sherlock said; his voice dangerously low and she coughed once, trying not to cry.

"So if this is my dream," she said, itching her arm, "can I hug you?"

"You're so dull even in your sleep," Sherlock taunted her as she threw herself at him, holding him tightly to her as she thought about everything. But it didn't feel real. It felt as though she was hugging air. She was holding him but he wasn't holding her. And then she woke up.

Panting and sweating, she sat bolt straight, looking around the room before fumbling for the light switch. She pushed her curly hair from her face and rested her head back against the cushion, breathing deeply and then slowly crying once again.

...

A/N: For those of you who are reading this – yes I did have a sequel up to this story but I decided that I really did not like the way it was going and so I have decided to continue on with the 'Rules of Parenting' instead and see where it takes me. Please do review if you're reading this still!


	34. Chapter 34

The first day back at college was terrible for Alison. All of her friends had moved on but she didn't know where. She had lost the majority of her friends whilst she had been on a hectic schedule with her father. They had her number and she had their number but no one initiated conversation. She had become a recluse and she knew it. She had become like her father.

College was droll; teachers welcomed her back sceptically, looking at her as if she was a leper. No doubt everyone knew the news that her father was a fraud. Everyone knew with thanks to Kitty Riley and Jim Moriarty.

"How was college?" Mycroft asked her when she returned back to his home later on in the evening after working at the coffee house for a few hours after college. Mycroft was sat in his leather seat in his study, a scotch held in the air in his hand as his other hand contained a pen. Alison remained stood up, her eyes looking onto the bookshelves of the study and she shrugged.

"It went okay," she nodded. Her uncle had asked to see her as soon as she returned home and Alison complied. "The usual boringness of college has resumed, it would seem."

"Well there is a present in the driveway for you," Mycroft said, seeming slightly more interested in his paperwork as Alison raised a brow in his direction, picking up a book and looking through its pages.

"What is it?" she simply enquired from him.

"A car," he said as if it was nothing. As if buying someone a car was an everyday thing. And maybe it was for someone like Mycroft but for Alison it was something else.

"A car?" she shouted out loudly, her eyes going wide as Mycroft looked back at her, a grin on his face as he did so. "You bought me a car?"

"Yes," he replied. "Now you can drive yourself to and from college and to and from work."

"You didn't need to," she responded back to him, pulling her skirt further down her legs as she did so, her lips pursed as she did so. "Uncle Mycroft...you...it is a bit extravagant."

"Just because your father didn't buy you a car does not make it extravagant, Alison," Mycroft informed his niece and she shrugged once, thinking about the homework which she had to do. But then she thought about John. She hadn't seen him in a couple of days.

"So can I take it for a drive?" she enquired, crossing her ankles together and holding her hands behind her back as Mycroft eyed her with suspicion, knowing what she was anchoring after. He wasn't stupid.

"You want to go and see John," he stated simply and she dropped her mouth open to protest but immediately closed it again, a nod moving through her.

"I'd lie but there's no point."

"Be careful," he said through clenched teeth, not liking the idea of her going to see the doctor but knowing there was nothing which he could really do to stop her.

...

Alison drove the new car through the streets of London with extreme caution, trying to remember how to drive after the large amount of time which had passed between her passing and actually driving. The last time she had driven was...Baskerville...when her father had allowed her.

She placed the car on the side of the street, and climbed out, locking it up and looking onto 221B. It hadn't changed in the few days she had been away. She hadn't expected it to but she did know she hoped that it had.

Wondering whether to knock of let herself in she decided to stick with the former option. She pulled her keys out from her bag and slipped one into the lock, turning it and pushing the door open and looking through the hallway. She moved up the steps, peering into the living room where she saw John sat at the desk next to the window, his laptop open in front of him as he typed away ferociously.

"John," Alison whispered his name and she stood in the doorway. His eyes turned to look at her and she smiled sadly at him and a large grin moved onto his face.

"Alison," he drawled. "I thought you were with Mycroft...I was going to call later..."

"He bought me a car," Alison said and John's eyes went wide again. "I know, pretentious, isn't it?"

"A bit," John muttered in agreement, leaning back as Alison moved around the flat, wincing as she looked at the skull on the mantelpiece. "How was college today?"

"I spent the majority of it hiding at the back of the class and then in the library. I have turned into the social rejected girl," she sighed, flopping down onto the armchair opposite the one which Sherlock always sat in and John folded his laptop lid down, standing up and sitting on the arm of her chair.

"I'm sure things will get better," he promised her and she snorted loudly at him, shaking her head as she did so.

"I have no friends, I'm living with the British Government and my mum and dad have been killed by a psychopath," Alison reasoned, looking up at John who took hold of her hand and kissed the back of it.

"Things will get better," he said with determination. "They have to, Alison."

"I know," she replied simply. "So what are you doing?"

"Trying to find a job," John complained, standing up once again and running a hand through his hair. "I need something to pay the rent."

"Oh," Alison remained silent. "Are things not financially sound?"

"Nothing for you to worry about," John promised her, managing to force a smile onto his face. "I'll manage...I always do."


	35. Chapter 35

"The British Political System," Alison muttered as she sat down on the floor of 221B Baker Street. John remained sat at the desk, his laptop open and his eyes staring at the screen which showed his last post on his blog. He didn't feel like writing anymore. He never felt like writing. All that he wanted to do was hideaway in the flat but he knew he needed a job.

"When am I ever really going to need this?" Alison snapped, making notes on the 'First Past the Post Voting System.' John looked down onto her as she leant against the sofa and he smiled gently. "It's bad enough I'm a third year...I don't know why I even agreed to go back to college."

"Because you're a bright girl and Sherlock would have wanted that for you even if he said it was dull," John told her quickly and she bit down on her bottom lip but nodded once at John and returned back to her writings. "Besides, your uncle would most certainly want you to know about Politics."

The doctor watched her intently for a bit before she looked up at him, realising he was, indeed, off-putting her.

"You know," she drawled, "if you sit there and keep watching me then I will definitely fail my exams when Christmas comes around."

"Sorry," John muttered, turning back to the screen as he did so and Alison smirked gently, focusing on her writings.

"It's alright," she grinned. "I can't stay too late, John. Mycroft has curfews, apparently."

"Of course he does," John muttered simply. "How about we do something this weekend?"

Alison nodded simply at him, chewing on her pen for a moment and then smiling at him through her large eyes and John smiled back, seeming slightly calmer than he had been before she had arrived. The stress was getting to him. The thought of having to get another job and the worry of rent didn't do him any good.

"You can treat me to a nice fancy meal, Doctor Watson," she teased him but John didn't pick up on her underlying joking tone and instead his face turned a deep shade of red. He didn't have the spare money to take her somewhere fancy. He didn't have the money to treat her like he wanted. What did he have to give her?

"I thought...well...actually...never mind...I'm probably busy this weekend," John muttered and went back to looking at his laptop as Alison looked up at him, her face scrunched up and her eyes narrowed in his direction, wondering what had suddenly changed his mind. She had only been messing with him.

"I didn't mean it, John," Alison muttered, tucking her curls behind her ears as she stood up slowly, grabbing her stuff as she went and placing it onto the coffee table.

"It's not the point, Alison," John snapped back at her, his voice loud and stern as he slammed his fists down onto the wooden surface, his eyes glaring into hers. "I don't have any money...I don't have a job...the rent here is too much for me and I can't give you what you need."

Alison remained silent, crossing her ankles together as she bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes cast to the floor as John dropped his head into his hands, sniffing once as he did so.

"I don't need anything," Alison whispered to him simply, the pair of them still not looking at each other. "I don't want anything from you, John."

"It isn't the point," John huffed back to her, his voice slightly muffled by his hands holding onto his mouth before he ran a hand through his hair. "The point is that I can't be like a normal...well...we can't have a normal relationship...Alison..."

"Why can't we?" she challenged him. "If this is about age then-"

"-It isn't," John promised her quickly before she could go off on another rant and he shook his head, managing to look back at her. "This is to do with the fact that I can't...you deserve so much better...Alison..."

"Shut up," Alison complained, rolling her eyes and picking her books back up, pressing them to her side as she grabbed her car keys from the wooden bowl on the table. "If you need...well...money..."

"No," John said curtly. He wasn't taking any money from her. She didn't have control over her accounts as Mycroft was now her legal guardian. He didn't need pity pennies. "I will manage."

"I just don't want to see you struggle, John," she informed him and he snorted once, leaning back in his chair and patting the arms of it.

"I will manage," John informed her. "Besides, I'm in my thirties, Alison. I've managed all of this time without you."

Alison listened to his words for a moment before wondering what he had meant by them. His curt tone and resentment didn't help her to feel any more at ease.

"In that case, I will be going," she said suddenly, turning on her heel and moving out of the door and down the steps, slamming the door as she went.

...

Alison turned the ignition off as soon as she reached Mycroft's garage and she remained seated on the plush seat, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she thought about the brief conversation which she had just had with John. She didn't dwell upon it for long, considering she was drained and needed to get her homework finished. She snorted once at how normal that sounded. Normal was not a word which the Holmes family associated with.

Once she was out of the car, she moved through the garage and into the kitchen, her books still in her hand as she made her way through the quiet settings of Mycroft's house. She should tell him that she was home, but she wouldn't be shocked if he had been following her all night.

She deposited her books and paper on the table at the bottom of the staircase, dropping her car keys into her blazer pocket and then moving off to his study.

"Well you always were unexpected," she heard her uncle speak slowly before she knocked on the door. A slight crack of light shone from the gap between the door and its frame as Alison's hand froze in midair, wondering if she should bother him. When no one replied she found herself stuck to the spot, wondering why her uncle was slightly riled.

"No," Mycroft snapped down the phone once again. "If she must persist in seeing him then I won't stop her. She is an adult. She is old enough to make her own decisions even if I have to be legally responsible for her."

Alison strained her ears, desperate to hear more as her brows furrowed and she turned her ear towards the wood.

"Well she has started back at college today...something which I managed to get her to do, unlike you. Oh, and I bought her a car. Nippy little thing..."

He was talking about her. She was one hundred per cent sure of it. But who on earth was he talking to? It didn't make sense. None of it made any sense whatsoever.

"Do you intend on showing your face anytime soon? Because, even by your standards, this is selfish."

She didn't know how to react. Surely he couldn't be talking to...it wasn't possible...she had seen him jump...she had seen him fall off a building.

But she wasn't able to stand there any longer, not knowing anything.

...

There was a scurry of activity from Mycroft's side of the line as the man in the red telephone box remained resting against the glass pane of it, his eyebrow arched in intrigue as he heard Mycroft tell Alison she had gotten the wrong end of the stick. He smirked for a second as he heard her tell her uncle where he could shove his stick and then she took hold of the phone for herself, her breathing heavy and her voice full of desperation.

"Hello?" she asked down the phone and the man in the telephone booth felt his blood vanish from his veins, his breathing shallow as he closed his eyes, listening to her voice and not being able to say anything back to her. "Dad...dad...is that you?"

No. He couldn't say anything back to her. She couldn't know. She couldn't know yet. He had business to take care of.

"Dad!" she snapped and he knew she was beginning to cry and so he hung up, unable to take her tears when he wasn't there.

He left the booth after a moment and turned his coat collar up, his hands slipping into his pockets as he made his way through London town like an invisible ghost.

...

A/N: Anyway, thank you to anyone who is reading this and to anyone who has reviewed! Please, please, please, do let me know what you think? Was it worth carrying on with or not?


	36. Chapter 36

"You do know how rude that was, don't you, Alison?" Mycroft checked with niece when she handed the phone back to him. He slowly placed the small mobile into his pocket as he carefully observed his niece. Alison looked down onto the carpet, her eyes moving from side to side as she continued to think about what had just happened.

"Who were you talking to?" she pushed her uncle, managing to look him in the eye, her chin jutting out in a stubborn manner and her eyes narrowed at him much like her father's did. "Who were you on the phone with and why did they hang up when I spoke?"

"It is none of your concern, Alison," Mycroft warned her and sighed once, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose, working on a story to tell his niece to quench her thirst for knowledge. "But, it was mine and Sherlock's Great Uncle."

Alison remained silent, her eyes going wide at that piece of information. She didn't believe him. He didn't sound like his normal convincing self and he couldn't hold eye contact. But why would he lie?

"My dad never mentioned anything about a Great Uncle," Alison informed Mycroft who snorted once. He walked around the study, picking up a piece of paper which was on his desk and eyeing it with interest.

"Well he wouldn't," Mycroft replied, peering at her over the top of the paper as he sat down in the plush leather seat. "Did he ever mention anyone from our family?"

"He mentioned you," Alison spoke in a whisper. "He never mentioned anyone else."

"So this shouldn't come as a shock to you," Mycroft assured Alison who folded her arms across her waist, feeling slightly stupid but knowing there was something else. "I mentioned him being selfish because he never attended the funeral. I thought it would only be prudent for him to come and see his great nephew's daughter."

"Why did he hang up then?"

"Because you possibly scared him off, Alison," Mycroft told her as if it was obvious and she raised a brow at him, itching the back of her hand before thinking about what to say in response to him. Mycroft remained watching his niece before he took slight pity to her. He stood up, making his way over to his niece and resting his hand onto her arm, cringing slightly as he did so. Human contact. It was something which he did.

"I understand that this has been a trying time for you, Alison," Mycroft drawled. "And I understand that you're on edge. What you went through was certainly horrid but Sherlock...he's gone...Alison...he's gone."

...

Alison had never been one to be nosy. Yes, she enjoyed gossip as much as the next person but she never went out of her way to find out information like her father used to. But she knew there was something which just wasn't right. She knew Mycroft was lying to her. The way he struggled to look at her and the way his neck twitched was a certain giveaway.

Alison pulled her laptop open when she moved up the stairs to her bedroom and she used the search engine to try and find out if Mycroft had been lying.

...

As soon as Mycroft had sent Alison up to her room to finish her homework he set about making his lie true. Yes, he and Sherlock did have a Great Uncle but he was dead. Yet, he knew Alison would be upstairs researching it and he couldn't have her find out the truth and so, with him being the British Government, he changed his dead uncle to make him alive.

...

"You're awfully quiet," John informed Alison when she came around to Baker Street later on in the evening. She was sat on the sofa with her arms folded around her knees as she thought about the events of the last twenty four hours. First, she had accused Mycroft of speaking to her father and then she had seen a man in the street...he looked so much like Sherlock...she couldn't risk not making a scene.

"It's just college," she lied to John with a shrug as the doctor hung his jacket onto the coat rack and moved into the kitchen, hitting the switch on the kettle. "How was your job interview?"

"I'll know by the end of the week," John called back, resting his hands onto the worktop and not holding out much hope for a job. He needed one. He needed something to do with his time but the thought of doing something so normal seemed dull to him now. Christ, Sherlock really had gotten to him.

"I'm sure you did fine," Alison informed him, yawning once and shuffling around the on the cushion underneath her as she rested her head onto her arms, her hands running down her long hair which was due for a cut soon.

"We'll wait and see," John mused, placing some tea into his cup and pouring the steaming water into the cup. "Do you want a drink?"

"I'm okay."

"So, how is college?" John asked and took a seat on the other side of the sofa to her as he blew the mist away from the top of his cup and took a sip on it, his eyes looking up and across to Alison who managed to look back at him.

"Okay," she simply told him, not really wanting to discuss it. "I had a free period today so ended up going to sit by myself in my car because the library was full. I really love life." She added on sarcastically and John remained tight lipped, not knowing what to really say back to her.

"Haven't you made any friends?" John asked her and she shook her head.

"No one really talks to me...you know...the daughter of a fake detective and all that..." Alison mused and chuckled in disbelief once as John reached out, his hand resting onto her kneecap.

"Things will get better, Alison," John promised her. "You'll make friends, don't worry. Besides, you finish college in less than a year."

"Great," Alison drawled, rolling her eyes as she did so, "so I just have under a year of being talked about and ignored. Excellent."

"You've become more sarcastic then he ever used to be," John informed Alison and she smiled once before uncurling her limbs and standing up, holding his hand as she took it from her knee.

"I need to get going." Alison informed John as she remained holding onto his hand whilst she moved around the sofa. "Uncle Mycroft will be annoyed if I skip curfew."

"Look after yourself," John urged her before she bent down to kiss his cheek and he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb as she rested her forehead against his.

"You look after yourself," Alison replied and stood up straight, grabbing onto her leather bomber jacket and shrugging into it before reaching for her car keys.

Alison rushed down the stairs of 221B, looking back at Mrs Hudson's flat which was empty. Once she was on the street she unlocked her car, opening the door and looking onto the seat. But she froze when she saw what was on it. Alison glanced around the street quickly, her eyes moving across the faces, wondering if anyone was watching her before she moved the envelope from her seat and shut the car door, locking it as her breathing became deep.

She picked the envelope up slowly, her hands shaking as she pulled the flap open and peered inside, her eyes widening at what she saw before she dropped it into her lap, her hand moving over her mouth as she saw what it was.

The Pink Phone.

...

A/N: Plot is beginning to pick up now! And so I thank, SanctuaryLover, Thalianaa and reverie-scriptor for reviewing the last chapter! I'm glad you think it was worth carrying on with! Anyone who is reading, please, take two seconds out to tell me what you think and what you want to happen or if you have any ideas! So, please, do review!


	37. Chapter 37

A pink phone. What the hell was the phone doing in her car? How could someone have put it there? She had locked the doors as soon as she had climbed out the car. It had been locked the entire time she had been in 221B. No one had access to it. But someone had managed to get in without breaking the windows or sounding the alarm.

Alison's stomach churned at the mere thought of the phone on the passenger seat next to her. It was that phone which had brought her father to Moriarty. That phone had been the connection between them before he had met him at the pool. How did it get back here? Alison tried to convince herself it was just a phone. Phones couldn't do any harm. But it had done harm. She had looked up to 221B and wondered about going back to tell John about her discovery but she didn't. She decided to drive back to Mycroft and tell him. She didn't dare get out the car in case someone was watching.

...

"Alison," Mycroft snapped when he saw his niece barge into his study with an envelope in her hand. He held his mobile in his hand, resting it against his shoulder as he looked at his niece and noted the sweat dripping off her brow. Her eyes were looking at her uncle and her face was as pale as a ghosts. He quickly studied her, deducing in record time that something was wrong, before he hung up the phone, dropping it into his pocket.

"I found this...it was in my car when I left John...I don't know it got there because I locked it and the alarm never sounded and there wasn't any broken windows." She explained to Mycroft hastily before he took the envelope from her hand and peered inside, looking at the phone and then back at his niece.

"Is this the phone which Sherlock was linked to?" he enquired, remembering that he read something about a phone on John's blog which he occasionally looked at.

"I think so," Alison agreed. "I just don't understand why it is here or how it got into my car."

"I shall look into it," Mycroft promised her, peering into the envelope once again, seeming more interested in it then he was in his niece and her terrified reaction to the recent discovery. "In the morning I will give it to the best and they will decompose it and search for fingerprints. Until then, you shouldn't worry."

Alison remained silent, nodding in agreement with her Uncle but wondering if he could do any of this government stuff a bit faster. And how could she not worry? She didn't know who it was or why they were doing this to her. None of it made any sense.

"Why don't you go upstairs and try and relax?" Mycroft suggested although it was more like an order judging by the tone of his voice. "I shall have a maid bring you some food up considering you missed dinner."

Mycroft watched her leave his study before he pulled his phone out once again and walked over to the wooden door, twisting the golden key in the lock before walking back to his desk, admiring the bookshelves and cabinets as he went. He took a seat in the leather chair, leaning back and looking at the pink phone once again as he called the secret number.

"What?" the curt voice from the other end snapped and Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"We have an issue," Mycroft informed him before he heard a chuckle and the whizz of traffic and a beeping noise like at a pedestrian crossing.

"You have an issue," the man corrected, "I'm dead."

"It is your issue when it concerns your daughter," Mycroft hissed back and received nothing but a moment of silence before a muffled cough reached his ears. "Do I have your full attention now?"

"What is it?" he snapped back to his brother who picked up the envelope, admiring the pink phone inside of it.

"A pink phone," Mycroft drawled. "Does it mean anything to you?"

"It was the phone which Moriarty sent to me when we were playing our game," he replied simply, his brows knitting together as he thought about the phone, wondering why it was significant.

"Well it seems someone wants to play a game with your daughter now," Mycroft drawled, itching the back of his hand as he closed his eyes. "They left the phone in her car whilst she was visiting the good doctor. No smashed windows and no alarm. Who had access to the phone?"

"I..." he stammered for a second, standing still to the side of the pavement and resting against a brick building as people passed him, occasionally looking in his direction but not noticing who he truly was with thanks to a hat and glasses. "I don't know where I put it after the case. I always presumed I had lost it but I don't know who could have gotten to it."

"Well, Alison is shaken up. Understandable, considering she is like a meek mouse ever since you decided to leave her."

"Where is she now?" he wondered down the phone and Mycroft looked up to the ceiling.

"She's gone upstairs. I imagine she will be asleep soon. Why?"

"I'm coming round."

"Are you-" but Mycroft didn't get a chance to finish his question as the line went dead.

...

Mycroft waited patiently for the doorbell to ring. He had dismissed the maid for the evening, not wanting her to see his visitor this evening. The clock struck half past eleven in the evening and Mycroft yawned, about to give up hope on him coming. As he walked through the hallway he heard a noise from the kitchen. He rolled his eyes, wondering why it would be so hard for him to use the normal front entrance. Walking with haste, he made his way back into the kitchen, seeing the silhouette of the tall, lanky man as he shut the back door.

"You always did have to be different," Mycroft observed as he hit the light switch to shed some light on the situation. "What is wrong with front door, Sherlock?"

"I like to be different," Sherlock simply agreed with his brother. "Where is the phone?"

"I thought you'd be asking 'where is my daughter'?" Mycroft wondered and Sherlock pursed his lips together, his eyes glaring at his brother as he unbuttoned his coat and adjusted his blue scarf around his neck.

"She'll be asleep. The phone. Now." Sherlock said curtly and Mycroft yawned, turning around and moving back into his study. Sherlock shut the door behind him as he watched Mycroft move to his desk and open the top drawer.

"Have you looked at it?" Sherlock asked, leaving his gloves on to pick the phone up.

"Yes," Mycroft nodded. "There is nothing on it. No texts or voicemails or any internet history. It is empty. What do you think it means?"

Sherlock remained silent, not answering the question. Mainly, because he didn't have an answer to the question. He didn't know what it meant. But he had an idea who sent it.

"I will have my best men on it tomorrow," Mycroft simply said but Sherlock shook his head, dropping the phone into his coat pocket.

"I will take it to the lab," he said quickly. "I will deal with it."

"And what do I tell Alison about it?" Mycroft asked and Sherlock blinked quickly, wondering why he was asking so many questions.

"You tell her that your men are working on it. Simple," Sherlock shrugged.

"And do you intend to go upstairs and tell her that you're back from the dead?" Mycroft enquired, sitting down and opening the whiskey bottle on his desk. He opened the drawer and grabbed a glass from it and Sherlock remained emotionless, looking at his brother before he shook his head.

"Not yet," he simply replied. "I need to sort some things out."

"What can you possibly need to sort out?" Mycroft snapped at his brother, running a hand through his hair as he did so.

"Moriarty," Sherlock simply spoke. "That is all."

"She's your daughter, Sherlock!" Mycroft hissed again. "Even by my standards this is cruel and unnecessary. And Moriarty died."

"I am doing this to keep her safe. And I died too. It doesn't mean anything."

"You've never been worried about her being safe before."

"That was before I realised how much danger I put her in," Sherlock replied quickly. "I've seen her hurt and...me being dead...it is better for her at the moment."

"I see her every day," Mycroft whispered, twirling the alcohol in his glass. "She's not better without you."

"Is she in the guest room?" Sherlock simply asked; wanting to avoid any emotion as Mycroft nodded. Sherlock turned around and moved over to the study door.

"Watch out, Sherlock." Mycroft simply called out as Sherlock shut the study door and took to the stairs, slowly walking down the landing and over to the guest room door. He stood and watched the wood for a few moments before he opened the door, a small ounce of light hitting his eyes and he worried she was still awake. But he didn't receive any answer. He crept into the room silently, praying that the door didn't creak and the floorboards didn't make a noise.

She had fallen asleep with the light on, a book beside her which was entitled 'The Reign of Queen Victoria' as she slept silently.

Sherlock remained silent, stood near the doorway as he placed his hands into his pockets and remained stood watching her. She tossed and turned a few times but she didn't wake. If only she knew he was there.

...


End file.
